The Net
by MoonlightGypsy
Summary: T After the tragic conclusion of Tony's mole hunt in Nature of the Beast, it's only a matter of time before he gets caught back in Latham's web. Will Gibbs be able to help when Tony loses faith in him?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I do not own, or claim to own, any rights or trademark on NCIS or the characters used here. I simply like to play colorforms. Note though, that the creativity of the story, and it's plot., those are indeed mine.

**Ok - I'm in "The Net" now. If you like, and even if you have some constructive criticism, lemme hear ya !**

THANKS – GRACIAS – DANKA – DOMO – GRAZIE

The elevator doors opened. Two agents in suits were roughly escorting a disheveled and worn Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo through the bullpen. It was a shock to see him there. They'd been looking for him for two months.

"Tony! " Ziva jumped up and blurted out, while McGee jumped up as well from his desk with an "Oh my God! " the sight of him...in jeans and a plain crumpled button down shirt, unshaven and pale, bruises and cuts all over his face and neck...

Tony was limping slightly, holding one arm a bit closer to his body and gave them a weak smile uttering, "Miss me Probie?" as the men ushered him past the bullpen and towards interrogation.

Ziva followed immediately with McGee behind her. "What is going on here? "

Just then Gibbs was storming down the stairs from the Directors office, Vance trailing behind him. He was angry, growling the words out hotly, "He had NO right! Tony is not the enemy here."

"I don't like this any better than you do, Gibbs! " they both seemed to realize at the same time they'd taken the conversation too far outside closed doors and brought it down a notch. Gibbs turned to Vance for a moment, as Ziva and McGee looked on.

"If Tony isn't okay, Leon, I don't care who the hell he thinks he is. He is not above the law." He glared at Vance.

He just nodded to Gibbs and said, "Let's go get this over with. The sooner it's over, the sooner you can get you team back to normal."

As they turned to walk towards interrogation, Ziva got in front of Gibbs, almost tripping him. "Gibbs, what is going on? "

"Secretary Jarvis wants to question Tony about what happened before anyone else is permitted to speak to him." He stopped for one moment while Vance walked ahead of them, "You and McGee...I want you in the viewing room with us. I want witnesses. Even though the video will be on. Just be seen and not heard." He gave them stern looks, and they nodded.

As they continued on, McGee couldn't help himself. "Boss...Tony didn't look good...is he okay?"

Gibbs muttered worriedly, "He better be."

The two agents who'd escorted Tony in stayed out in the hallway, leaving Tony alone in interrogation room One. Now, they were all waiting impatiently for Secretary Jarvis.

They couldn't take their eyes off their haggard looking friend beyond the glass in front of them.

He'd sat down, at the table, he was too thin...the planes of his face more angular than the last time they saw him. He looked down at the table, and took the bottle of water they'd been kind enough to allow him in his hand, and then seemed to think better of it, and put it down. He finally looked up to the glass and said hoarsely, "Another stellar day at the office." And then smiled bitterly.

Tony looked around the room, actually enjoying being in it...even though he was on the wrong side of the table...so to speak. After everything that had happened...he actually couldn't believe he was alive and home. Maybe he wasn't and it was another hallucination. He laughed to himself...he suspected it was real, so he knew at least Vance and Gibbs were behind the glass...and probably thought he was cracking up. Maybe he was.

He suddenly felt fatigued...dizzy again. He knew he had broken ribs, and cuts and burns that probably needed more medical attention that the quick once over he'd gotten in Sardegna. He was shivering slightly...and small wave of coughing hit, he could feel it in his painfully injured ribs, and he looked longingly at the bottle of water on the table again. He knew the shaking and cough and fever he felt building probably had something to so with being adrift in the sea for a full day. Not to mention, being beaten and tortured for six weeks. _No let's not forget that._

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, leaning his head into one hand, elbow propped on the table. He couldn't put up the other arm without excruciating pain from his ribs...so that one he continued to keep close to his body.

From the other side of the glass, they all didn't like what they were seeing. Tony was obviously not well. And Gibbs knew him well enough to know when Tony was in pain.

"Why isn't he just drinking some water?" McGee asked, forgetting he was supposed to be quiet. And at Gibbs' glare he said, "Sorry Boss."

Vance and Gibbs were thinking the same thing.

"He's not sure he can trust that it's not tampered with. He doesn't trust anything right now." Vance said softly.

Anger rolled hotly through Gibbs' body, and he was clenching his fists at his sides.

"Tim, go down and get Ducky. Tell him to bring his live kit up with him and bring him back to observation."

McGee nodded. He knew Gibbs was very upset to use his first name. "Okay Boss." And then he was gone to get the M.E.

Ziva was pacing a little trying to control herself as well. It was obvious Tony had been through some kind of hell and this situation was just unacceptable.

Just then, the SecNav entered the room, eyeing Tony.

Gibbs turned to the attendant and said in a steely grunt "Start rolling."

They had to make sure everything was documented to protect Tony.

"Special Agent DiNozzo, he began, quietly, taking in the sight of the younger man.

Tony looked at him, suddenly his eyes became slightly narrowed. His tone was cool. "Hello Clay."

Jarvis sighed. He'd expected the attitude. He couldn't blame DiNozzo for it.

"Tony, I am sorry about how you were brought here. And you are not under any suspicion for wrongdoing -"

Tony snorted in disgust at that. "Ohhh, I don't think I'm in any trouble here, Clay. But you? Anyone ever teach you the saying, "You lie down with dogs and wake up with fleas"?"

Jarvis paused, but then continued, "However, in the interests of national security, I felt it imperative you come directly here for a statement and sit rep."

Tony just stared him coldly.

"Not good", Vance murmured next to Gibbs.

"Where do you want to start Agent DiNozzo?

Tony looked down at the table for a moment. "I suppose..." he looked up at Jarvis again, "at the beginning, when you had me implanted with the microchip, to use me as bait."


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva gasped.

"**What?**" Gibbs blurted out, and then looked at Vance furiously, "When the hell did **that **happen, Leon?"

But Vance shook his head angrily, scowling, "I was not informed, Gibbs."

(Flashback)

Tony was buying his morning coffee, in the shop near the office. He was checking his email from his phone while he waited on line.

"Good morning, Tony," the familiar voice said behind him. _Shit_. He thought. _That voice._

He turned slowly, plastering a forced smile on his face. "Good morning, Mr. Secretary."

Jarvis stood looking at him for a moment with the sort of beady-eyed evaluation Tony had grown to expect from the man.

"I'd like you to come sit down with me for a moment. I have something to discuss with you." He turned and went to a small table, in an emptier corner of the shop.

_Awesome. I could've used the coffee first._ Tony grimaced and followed him to sit down, feeling apprehensive about what Jarvis might want.

"I think we got off to a bad start together." Jarvis said, leaning forward as Tony sat.

"Bad start, eh? I'd say that's an understatement, Mr. Secretary."

"Regardless, we both have a duty to protect our country. And I expect you to remember that I'm in charge here."

"In the coffee shop? Wow..." Tony chuckled, "that's some moonlighting job."

Jarvis ignored his sarcasm for the moment. "We have an opportunity to get to the bottom this. To find out who the mole is, and who Stratton is. I'd figure you would want that. To find Agent Barrett's killer."

Tony's stomach clenched. "We don't know for sure she's dead."

Jarvis looked to be getting impatient. He frowned.

Tony sighed. "What is it you want me to do?"

"I want you to have the microchip we recovered… implanted."

Tony looked at him like he was crazy. "You want me to _**what**_?"

"If you have the implant, we can control who knows about it, and once they come after you, we can catch them with their hand in the cookie jar."

"The cookie jar being my arm? It's suicide."

"We can protect you."

"You're _insane,_ Mr. Secretary, do you know that? Gibbs would flip if..." Tony's eyes widened a little, "that's why were here. You didn't even tell Vance."

"Tony, I don't know who the mole is. But I want to eliminate as many people as possible out of the chain of information."

"No." He glared at Jarvis.

Jarvis paused, changing his approach. "You know...I could send McGee to a sub basement for the rest of his career." Tony stiffened.

"It's about time Gibbs retired anyway. I can still find a reason to send Ziva back to Israel."

"You can't, she's-"

"Oh, I can make it happen. How long you think, before she's on ops for her father again? Maybe next time she's captured on a mission, no one will rescue her."

Tony was shaking with anger at his threats. But he _was_ the secretary of the US Navy. He knew they were real.

"And by the time I'm done with you, Agent DiNozzo, you'll be at sea so long, no one will remember your name. I told you before, I own you."

"And who owns you?" Tony hissed.

"You think I was involved in what happened with Barret and Cade."

"I don't know… and that's the point. _I don't know_."

"Will you do it or not? I need an answer so I know what I'm doing with your team." Jarvis stared at him, unwavering.

Tony gave an almost imperceptible nod. His mind already trying to think of ways around the situation.

"Good. Not a word to anyone. Not Gibbs either. Or he goes on my suspect list. No one is above suspicion at this point."

"What about your buddy, Latham?"

"Sean is solid. I've known him many years."

Tony sighed. He thought about quitting but...knew Jarvis would try to disband the team to teach him a lesson. Somehow, he was going to have to survive this without it affecting them, his family.

Jarvis stood up, "I will call you tomorrow and tell you where to go for the implant. This is top secret Tony. I can't impress upon you enough the need to keep this quiet."

Tony nodded again, not looking at him anymore. He stared dazedly at Jarvis' back as he left the shop. He looked down at the table, and rubbed his head, wondering how long he was really going to be alive.

It was a black van that met him the next day, on a street corner. It was on his lunch break. He got in, they gave him a local anesthetic, stuck a rather sizable needle in his wrist, and with a quick jerking sensation and burn, it was in place. They practically threw him out of the van. It took less than one minute.

When he got back to the office, looking a little pale, He decided to start his own secret plan to keep his family safe. By pushing them away.

"You okay, Tony?" You look pale," McGee asked when he saw Tony arrive at his desk.

"Mind your own business McGee," he said flatly, no nickname.

"You are in a bad mood," Said Ziva.

"No one asked you."

"Problem DiNozzo ?" Gibbs walked by, going to his desk.

Tony didn't answer, but glared at his Boss. They had never seen him look at Gibbs that way.

"Hey, DiNozzo, what's with you?" Gibbs asked it, perplexed by Tony's attitude.

"Nothing Boss," he said sourly. He turned to his computer, ignoring their confused glances.

That's how it started. Tony had no idea how long he would have, until someone came for the chip. Jarvis had a secret team watching Tony. They were good, Tony had to admit, barely detectible. But what if they came after him on the job? And someone got hurt...besides him? Could he live with Ziva, Gibbs, or McGee getting hurt or killed because he'd let himself become Jarvis' bitch?

He hid his anxiety every day, ramping up his anger, annoying them all. Until the day he got himself suspended by Gibbs for the week.

He knew what it would take. He just had to work himself into it. He hated the idea of going through with what he'd planned.

They were at a crime scene. He was continuing with his surly behavior, which had them all vaguely annoyed all morning..

McGee was collecting evidence. Tony was taking photos, and made sure no one saw when he pretended to trip over McGee. Of course McGee got annoyed.

He stood up and griped at Tony. "Tony, why don't you look where you're going?"

"And why don't you shut the Hell up?"

McGee was about to say something when Tony punched him in the nose.

Of course, that was the part Gibbs caught. _Bingo._

He yelled, "**DiNozzo ! **Knock it off **right now**!" He ran over, grabbing Tony's arm. "What the HELL is wrong with you?"

McGee was in shock, holding his bleeding nose. He was so surprised and shaken, that he didn't say anything at all.

Tony shrugged Gibbs off, "What the Hell's wrong with _me_? McGee almost knocked me off my feet."

Gibbs got in close, staring at Tony, he tilted his head a little and narrowed his eyes. " I dunno what's going on with you Tony, but you're going home for the rest of the week, without pay. And next week you're riding your desk."

"Fine with me," he ground out, and then stormed off.

"Boss...what's wrong with Tony?" McGee said behind his hand.

Gibbs looked with concern now at McGee, checking his nosebleed. "I dunno, Tim, I dunno."

(End Flashback)

Tony stopped talking for a moment, having gone all over that last part for the benefit of his team.

"Wait..."McGee blinked. "He broke my nose on purpose to get suspended?"

Gibbs sighed. "He didn't want any of us in a body bag. Broken nose is better n' dead."

Tony was rubbing his eyes. He let out a long breath. He stared at the table for a moment, and then back to Jarvis.

Jarvis asked, "You didn't tell anyone about the chip?"

Tony said tiredly, "No. But…I...wanted to." His green eyes, now becoming glassier, looked back up to the mirror again but just for a flash.

Gibbs remembered, two days after he'd suspended Tony, he called him and asked him to come over. Tony reluctantly agreed. But Gibbs wanted to know why his gut was driving him crazy, telling him there was something deeper going on with his SFA.

Tony showed up...looking somehow antsy, and very tired, but glad to see him.

"What's up, Boss?" He asked nonchalantly, as if there weren't a huge freaking elephant in the room.

"I think you know."

Tony froze for a moment.

"I want you to explain what's gotten into you lately. It doesn't take a genius to see something is wrong."

Tony looked away. It was obvious he wasn't ready to talk.

"Why don't you go down to the basement. I'm gonna' make sandwiches, and work on the boat. Maybe you can help me."

Tony smiled at him, giving him an odd look. He looked like he was going to say something, but didn't. He just nodded and went down the steps to the basement. Ten minutes later, Gibbs was about to bring the plates down, when Tony came back up the stairs.

"Boss...I'm sorry, but, I've got an awful toothache. Really hurts, and...I think I just need to go home and take painkillers." Tony wouldn't look him in the eye. It was obvious to Gibbs, Tony didn't want to have the discussion. "Since I'm off anyway I can go to the dentist..." he looked at the sandwiches on the counter. And finally back at Gibbs. "Rain check?"

Gibbs looked at him, with an appraising stare. He knew something besides a toothache was wrong. But...the look in Tony's eyes...he couldn't pin down what it was.

He sighed. "Okay. No problem. Check in with me tomorrow. We still need to talk."

Tony swallowed, and nodded. "Okay, Boss. I'm gonna' go." And he left.

Gibbs' gut was twisting again.

The next day he questioned Vance, who told him Tony hadn't been given any other secret missions. So what the Hell was wrong with him ?

He had never gotten the chance to ask, because Tony disappeared the next day, along with his car, without a trace.


	3. Chapter 3

Jarvis was smiling a little at him now. "You could have just taken vacation time. Or sick leave."

Tony shook his head and smiled ruefully, "No. Always be specific when you lie. It would have been harder to keep them away or from asking questions. Well, at least for a little while. At least if I was being an asshole, they wouldn't want to talk to me right away…it bought time. Turns out, I didn't need a lot, did I?"

"I lost four Agents, good ones, when you disappeared. All dead in their vehicles," Jarvis had the sense to sound angry.

"They got me in the parking lot of my apartment building, it was probably about 7 pm. I usually see more people at that hour...I thought your people were still with me. Since I saw one of the cars outside my building before I left...I guess...they could have been dead even before I got back. Two grabbed me. One...shoved a needle in my neck. And it was lights out. Until I was on my way to the ship."

Ziva was boiling, pacing slowly behind Gibbs, just listening to Tony recount what had happened.

Gibbs shook his head, muttering _"Latham,"_ angrily.

Vance nodded.

McGee and Ducky were just trying to absorb what they were hearing.

Jarvis asked more softly, "What happened next? What ship were you on?"

He looked at Jarvis sharply. "It was a Ticonderoga Class Cruiser, the U.S.S. Phantom. It was an O.N.I ship."

Jarvis looked shocked.

"It was Latham, behind it all. He and Stratton. They worked together. But the other men on the ship…I don't think most of them know. They just think they're doing their jobs. Protecting the country."

"Latham ? Sean Latham ?" The SecNav was incredulous.

"Yes."

Jarvis was silent. A look came over his face, Tony hadn't seen before.

Regret.

The usually cocky man was putting the pieces together now. Seeing how he'd been manipulated, a dark grimace overcoming his features.

Tony looked down for a while, and seemed to be off somewhere else in his mind.

Gibbs was watching, muttering,"…not right…" Tony looked off, on top of ill.

"Tony." Jarvis brought him back to the room. "Tell me, what happened next."

He shook himself out of it, swallowing hard.

"I was on a chopper with them…but the details are hazy. We got to the ship and several Petty Officers were brought up to escort me to Latham's version of an interrogation room. He told them..." Tony sounded like he was still in disbelief, "that I was a spy, and enemy of the U.S. So they...put me in that room...tied me to a chair. Once those men were gone…it was just Stratton, and Latham, and me." Tony unbuttoned the left cuff of his shirt to show Jarvis the angry looking scar, that had just recently lost it's scabs, running up his wrist. "Stratton cut the chip out. But…I'm sure you already knew the chip was gone when I disappeared. And I'm gathering, Latham was the one who suggested using the real chip, instead of a simulation with less worth."

Jarvis was silent, but sighed and gave a curt nod.

"I thought… " he began in an even tone, but then got softer, "I thought I was pretty much dead after that. But Latham was gloating… about getting the chip. About how stupid you were…" he looked Jarvis in the eye, "for falling for his suggestions. And he...told me E.J. was alive, and that they were gonna bring her in, using me as bait. They wanted to tie up all the loose ends."

"Very popular, that idea. Using me as bait." Tony raised his eyebrows for a moment, tilting his head. He sat back a little.

"I told them both, Stratton and Latham, to go to Hell. And that she would never fall for it... But I was wrong." His jaw muscle twitched, as he looked down at the table again.

"Go on," Jarvis urged quietly.

"Stratton...had a...bit of an… unhealthy obsession with me. Seems he was a little pissed off…he'd tried to kill me a few times, and I wouldn't die." He let out a mirthless laugh.

Behind the glass, Gibbs closed his eyes, knowing with pain in his heart, that something terrible had been done to Tony.

"He..." he began but it got caught in his throat.. He looked down at the table, and took in a shaky breath in.

They all braced themselves in the observation room, as Tony recounted what happened next.

(Flashback)

He was hanging by his arms, almost unconscious from Stratton's latest beating. Stratton liked doing it himself. He had a few men work the room with him, calling Tony a traitor to the country, and asking him questions that made no sense, while he whipped Tony until he bled. And screamed.

In the darkened room, he vaguely heard a door open.

"Tony...Oh God..." she stood next to him, not knowing what to do.

"E.J.," he whispered, weak and in terrible pain. "You shouldn't be here."

"Tony...they told me" her voice had a small tremble in it,"...they were going to kill you, and they had someone send pictures of you…like this, from a cell phone I tracked to L.A.. When I came, just to see if you were really there, I was going to call Gibbs...I just didn't know if they were lying...but …they were waiting for me. " Her hands shook as she gently touched the sticky blood drying on his back. Tears were accumulating in her eyes.

Just then Stratton walked in, with two men and Latham.

"Pull him down." Stratton said it with pleasure in his voice. "Were going for a little walk."

(End Flashback)

Tony was staring at the table again. His brows, knitting together slightly. His breathing had become more shallow. He looked up at the mirror, hating that they would have to hear the next part.

He took a shaky breath and shifted in his seat, hunching forward just a bit. He rubbed his eyes with one hand. They hurt.

Gibbs was pinching the bridge of his nose again. He felt sick. No one else could speak, but Ziva had stopped pacing. She stood now with watery eyes, looking at Tony with one hand resting over her mouth.

Tony now had subtle tremors running through his body. "They took us up on deck. It was the middle of the night, and not many Petty Officers outside aft."

(Flashback)

"What do you want?" EJ asked angrily. She was struggling with Stratton as he drug her with him. Her hands were tied behind her back, as were Tony's. Latham followed , and the other two men pulled Tony along behind him.

They stopped near the railing.

Latham said, staring at her coldly, "Agent Barret, you have been a real thorn in my side. "

She looked suddenly at Tony, panicking.

Latham nodded to Stratton, while Tony was starting to struggle weakly with the two men holding him.

Stratton approached her, a menacing little smile on his lips.

(End Flashback)

Tony had stopped again, he was ashen. His gaze seemed to be losing focus.

"What happened, what did they do?" Jarvis asked with morbid fascination.

He closed his eyes, opening them slowly, and breathed out the words.

"They threw her into the sea."


	4. Chapter 4

They were all too shocked at the horror of Tony's last words to make a sound.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs saw McGee wiping at his eyes. Tony was barely holding it together on the other side of the glass. He ran a shaky hand through his hair.

"We had no reports agent Barrett was seen, dead or alive." Jarvis continued the interview, a bit paler now himself.

"Well, looks like Latham had better intel than you. _**She**_ shouldn't have been there. _**I **_shouldn't have been there." He was sounding angrier again.

"I asked you to go on these missions to protect our country," Jarvis said, almost in defense of himself.

Tony's tone turned deadly and low as he leaned forward again. "No, you asked me to do it because Latham told you to. I mean, I can understand, in a way, you're friends with someone a long time and …maybe you don't notice when they've changed. Maybe they hide things from you..."he looked up at the glass while Gibbs felt the accusation thrown his way. "Or maybe it was just that way the whole time and," he looked back at Jarvis, "you didn't see it."

Gibbs shook his head in confusion behind the glass.

Tony continued, "But Latham is as dirty as they come, Mr. Secretary. He's been selling those chips to the highest bidder, and now there's another auction going up for the one they took from me. _You_ never owned me. Because as long as Latham had your ear, _he_ did."

Jarvis sat for a moment, absorbing the words, and let out a frustrated sigh.

"So, why are you still alive, if they were cleaning up?"

"Because…" he suddenly sounded weaker, pallor shifting again to almost green, "they had other plans for me. Stratton... told me, I had a job to do. They wanted me to run a black op for them. I refused."

"And then what?"

This time, Tony took a while, looking around the room, blinking, and swallowing back the urge to get sick. He licked his lips, and sighed.

"They pulled out some...medieval, old school, cold war, brainwashing techniques."

"Good Lord" they heard Ducky mutter under his breath. They almost forgot he was there.

"Can this get any better?" Vance said disgustedly.

"_Briainwashing?"_

"Yes."

"How did they try to do that?"

He swallowed again. Carefully looking at the table or Jarvis. Not at the mirrored glass.

"They…caused me…a significant level of physical pain…and shot me up with some crazy cocktail of drugs…an LSD base, I think."

"How long?"

"I dunno...I...weeks?" Tony was starting to wane, exhaustion announcing itself in the slump of his shoulders.

In the observation room, his friends felt their blood run cold. Gibbs turned around and had to lean towards the opposite wall, one arm up and eyes closed, shaking his head. He wasn't sure he could take much more without going into the interrogation room and killing Jarvis.

"What did they want you to do?"

Tony looked straight at him. "Kill you."

"Me?"

"Yes. Your pal, Latham, has no use of you anymore. Seems you've served your purpose, jeopardizing the safety of the country. Hmm… Maybe even the world."

Jarvis was speechless.

Tony continued on, a little more menacingly. "What, nothing to say? Don't you wanna know, if maybe they did break me? I mean, that pencil your holding, I could just grab it and jam it into your neck..." Tony looked down at the pencil Jarvis had been fiddling with on the table on and off. He put it away.

"And…did they? Did they break you?"

Unfocused...Tony looked around a bit. "I'm not sure. But they weren't able to finish the program."

"So…what stopped it? What happened next?"

Tony smiled, genuinely, for the first time, but it was a smile that contradicted the sadness in his glassy green eyes.

"What happened next was Brian O'Shea."


	5. Chapter 5

"Brian O'Shea?" Jarvis looked confused. "Who's that?"

Gibbs tried to recollect the name…but nothing came to mind. He looked over at Vance who shrugged, and then turned back quickly to the window as Tony began a coughing fit.

He had to close his eyes for a moment…the coughing jarred his ribs again, and for a moment after he opened his eyes he saw little black dots.

Jarvis leaned over and slid the water in front of him. He finally broke down and took it.

He knew most of the water he had been given over the last several weeks had contained some of the hallucinogenic chemicals they wanted in his system. Sometimes though, they had still injected him with God knows what. He had hallucinated so many awful things, but also about being home. He'd spoken to the illusion Gibbs, and the rest of the team many times. Even Kate…but when he saw her, it actually helped him separate out hallucination from reality.

He took another swig, and closed the bottle, looking at it in his hand for a moment.

He carefully set it down and then rubbed his eyes again, grimacing at the feel of the light layer of perspiration on his face.

He began again, looking at Jarvis. "I met Brian O'Shea on The Sea Hawk, when I was Agent Afloat." He smiled a little again, "He was a Senior Chief Petty Officer then… We didn't hit it off right away…but he sort of grew on me."

(Flashback)

It was warm and sunny in Cartagena. He had shore leave for two days. Tony was sipping on a drink at the bar and staring at the dark haired waitress who was going in between the tables on the small patio in front. A few seamen passed in the cluttered palm lined street just beyond the shaded tables.

Her name was Alessandra. She always paid attention when Tony came in for a drink…but Tony figured she probably did that with several of the _Americanos._ He didn't care. She was hot.

She smiled a bit and tossed her hair as she walked by. He was angling how he was going to get her to spend some time with him, when someone grabbed his shoulder and turned him around roughly.

"You see something you like, amigo?" It was a wiry man with dark curly hair, and cigarette stained teeth.

Tony looked at the hand on his shoulder and back at the man. "You'll wanna move that," he said in a low tone, "if you wanna keep it."

The man moved it and then raised his voice a bit. "You Americanos, " he spat, "you're all alike. You think everything is for sale here."

Tony was confused. He glanced to the waitress who was now looking at them, alarmed.

"Manuel, no lo haga." She walked over to them and put her hand on the man's sleeve. "El no me molestaba. Usted siempre hace esto! "

He said hotly to her, "No consiga en medio de esto, hermana pequeña. Soy cansado de estos bastardos que mirando boquiabierto usted."

Tony knew now - this was her big brother, probably getting angry at her flirtation with Americans passing through port.

"Listen, " he said in a calm tone, "There's really no need-"

"Shut up!" The man said angrily, while the waitress backed away, "I know what you want with her!"

"Oh. Well, I'm losing my touch, if I seem so obvious." Tony smiled at him, because he knew how this was going to end. He never pulled his gun in a bar for something like this, unless someone produced a weapon. One on one, most of the time he won anyway.

Just as he was getting ready to get into a brawl with the wiry man, two other, much larger, and threatening men walked over. One had long hair and tattoos, and the other had a bandana on his head. Obviously, friends of the irate man. _Oh well,_ Tony thought darkly, _here goes another shirt. I liked this shirt._ He'd ruined two others in random fights since being assigned Agent Afloat.

"I didn't realize you were here with your two girlfriends. Unconventional, but hey, to each his own."

At that point they moved on him, too fast for him to properly get his hand to his holster under the light jacket he wore.

It was a frenzied eruption of limbs and barstools crashing as other customers got out of the way. They had grabbed Tony and threw him back into the bar but- he kicked out and sent the wiry man flying, and then landed a direct shot to one of the larger men's noses.

He heard the sickening crunch and howl as Tony took one across the mouth from the second man.

He was momentarily dazed, feeling blood drip down from the split in his lip. The man threw Tony to the ground. The bartender was yelling at them, but as Tony kicked out at the large man's legs, the instigator, wiry Manuel, was also standing over him, eyeing the gun holster now visible.

Tony saw that look. Manuel was going to try and take it from him…and kill him with it ? _Oh, Hell no -_

He was about to pull it himself when Manuel was knocked sideways and one of the larger men bringing his fist back to punch Tony again was grabbed and thrown clear to the other side of the bar.

He looked up, breathing heavily.

To his surprise it was Senior Chief Petty Officer Brian O'Shea.

He didn't look at Tony yet, he just glared at the troublemakers who decided to slink out of the bar, taking in the 6'7" stature and build of the sailor.

He grunted at them as they disappeared into the street. Then he smiled and looked down at Tony, giving him a hand up.

"DiNozzo, how does one Agent Afloat get into so much trouble," He smiled at Tony with his bright blue eyes and easy grin.

"I had it totally under control," Tony said as he swayed for a moment on his feet.

"Yeah, I can see that," the tall wall of man laughed. He scratched at his short blonde hair and then said gently, "I kind of owed you one anyway, for that…incident."

O'Shea had been accused of stealing money from one of the other officers. And he was angry. He hadn't been very cooperative with Tony, even though the Agent was trying to get to the truth, and they ended up in at least three screaming matches during the course of the investigation. O'Shea had worked very hard to become a SCPO, and had his eyes set on Marine Aviation, and a dark mark on his record could end the career before it began. If he was going to go for his IFS, and eventually get a TH-57 qualification to pilot the kind of machines he wanted, his record needed to be spotless.

But Tony had figured out in a short time, that it was one of the 2nd Class Petty Officers, with a drug problem, that had committed the theft. O'Shea's record stayed in its pristine state.

"Ah," Tony said, wiping at his mouth, scowling at the bloodstains on his shirt, "that was nothing.' Then he gave the man a huge grin. "But this, I'd say, demands I buy you a drink, O'Shea. I may need you to start moonlighting as my personal bodyguard."

They both laughed.

They were friends for the rest of Tony's time on the Sea Hawk.

(End Flashback)

Jarvis frowned. "What did he have to do with you getting off The Phantom?"

Tony looked at him, eyes slightly widening, "Everything."


	6. Chapter 6

Tony stared at Jarvis for another moment. Then leaned forward and said very seriously, "If it weren't for O'Shea, we would not be having this…little discussion we're having. I might have never come back…" his eyes flicked up to the mirror and back to Jarvis. "Or…I may have come back and killed you, for all I know, and ended up in prison or the looney bin…" he trailed off…then looked off to the side, saying speculatively, "Maybe I'll still end up there…"

"O'Shea was on The Phantom?" Jarvis asked.

"Yes."

"Was he working directly with Latham and Stratton? Anything to do with the microchips?"

Tony shook his head, "No. He was just…in the right place at the right time…again."

(Flashback)

Tony was lying on the floor of Latham's interrogation room. He was on his side, afraid to put any pressure on his damaged back. And he heard whispers in his mind…he couldn't silence them. Nor could he tell what they were saying.

He had been hallucinating again earlier, while they were torturing him. The horrible pain that had wracked his body was causing his mind to conjure up nightmarish visions.

He thought he was in a river, swimming, but realized he was actually floating above it. It was lined with rainforest type trees and plants. On the bank of the river, sat a desk, and McGee was at it on the phone. He called to him desperately, but he was too far away.

He kept floating, strangely just above the rippling surface. He looked down. It was so dark…he couldn't see what was in it.

Suddenly, a blinding, excruciating pain shot up his thigh. It took his breath from him. He couldn't understand how, but pihranas the size of truck wheels were floating with him above the water, and one was floating next to him, his flesh in it's teeth.

He'd screamed. And the pain kept coming, and the hallucination continued, until he passed out.

In between "re-programming" sessions, they gave him drugged water, and little to eat. They used electroshock and knives, in an overlapping series of combinations, with Stratton's face always somewhere looming, mocking him.

It would go on for a few days, before the "nice" phase.

Two men would pull him up off the floor, out of a puddle of his own blood or vomit or urine, and drag him to the door of the room, taking him out into the fresh sea air, where he could hardly see because his eyes weren't used to getting much light.

He was ushered into yet another room. The"clean up"room.

Hands he couldn't connect yet with faces stripped him of his clothing, standing him up in a shower stall, and washing away the blood and sweat. Sometimes he felt he would pass out while they did this, but being naked and vulnerable set off enough adrenaline in him to keep him at least semi-conscious. Sometimes he would be silent, and sometimes he would quietly weep.

Then it was into new scrubs-type clothing, unless they needed to stitch up the latest damage Stratton inflicted on him, so he didn't bleed to death or get an infection. After all, they wanted him fit enough for his mission. The one they were trying to break him to do.

And finally, the sickest part of all.

The civilized dinner with Latham.

They would drag him to Latham's quite luxurious state room. It was decorated with maritime antiques, and U.S. Navy paraphernalia. A large walnut desk sat up against one wall, a round dining table at the other, and straight ahead the open hatchway revealed a similarly decorated bed chamber. It all seemed out of place, for a military vessel…

But Latham wasn't military anymore, exactly, was he?

Tony was sat in a chair, in front of a round table. He could usually, only barely sit up.

The table was set, plates, silverware, glasses, and napkins. And a covered platter in the middle, which gave off the mouth watering smell of cooked food.

It made him almost sick at how hungry he was.

Latham would come in and sit down, smiling politely. And it made Tony feel even more insane when Latham talked to him, so…nonchalantly.

He remembered the first conversation.

"I had an excellent meal prepared for you, Tony. Stratton gets rather angry when I do anything nice for you. But," Latham poured himself a glass of wine from a bottle on the table, "I keep telling him you'll agree to do what we want soon. Right?"

Tony looked at him, the whispering voices in his mind still murmuring…something.

Latham took the lid off the platter, revealing what looked to be beef brisket and vegetables.

He took some, and put it on Tony's plate, and then onto his own.

He looked at Tony for another moment, "I think Stratton likes you, really, to spend so much time with you. But, he just can't bring himself to show it in a nice way. It's probably why he has so few friends."

Latham took a bite of the meat, and motioned for Tony to eat.

Since it didn't appear to be poisoned, he slowly picked up his fork, and ate some, wondering if he should try to kill Latham with the fork, if he had the strength to do it. But he'd already been labeled a traitor to any of the crew who were aware of his existence on the ship. He wasn't sure what the right move was. And the whispering voices kept distracting him.

Maybe he should just say yes, lie and tell them he would do it. Would kill Jarvis. And then get home, and not do it, and tell them all the truth…but how could he get any kind of real proof? To open up an investigation and have Latham arrested before he and Stratton hurt the people Tony loved? It would only be his word. He knew Gibbs would believe him…but Jarvis?

He thought about E.J. And thought about the team, and how he could never live with one of them being murdered by these bastards. He wanted to trust Gibbs could fix it, the whole mess. But the night he had gone to talk to the older man, he discovered Gibbs had been keeping something from him. And it made him second guess coming clean about the chip…

He forced himself to chew slowly, knowing the food would just come up on him after not eating for days, if he ate too fast.

"Have you revisited your decision on helping us?" Latham asked, as he would at each dinner after with Tony.

Tony just stared at him, and said nothing.

Latham sighed. "Well, I hope things don't get too bad for you with Stratton. He wants to try out some other…interesting things with your reprogramming." He said it casually, as if it were usual dinner conversation. Tony shuddered, closing his eyes for a moment.

"I hope you'll reconsider soon. Stratton gets a little too much pleasure out of this."

Latham got up and called two men in, who dragged Tony out, back to the interrogation room, which had been hosed down with bleach and water.

This was repeated, several times over. Tony knew after a few weeks, he was slipping down the rabbit hole, losing his mind…

But then there was the day, while they were dragging him from the interrogation room, being blinded by the light outside again, when he heard the voice.

"Whoa, what's going on here?" it was a familiar voice…

Tony squinted and picked his head up, seeing Brian O'Shea look him in the face, and shock register in his eyes.

Tony immediately shook his head, in subtle warning, for Brian not to acknowledge they knew each other.

One of the men holding him up said, "This guy is an enemy of the country, been selling military secrets to foreign governments. Latham's got him here for questioning. Other than that, can't tell you." And then they ignored O'Shea, who was dumbstruck, watching them disappear around a corner with his friend.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony stopped again for a moment, looking down at the table, just breathing. He'd left out the part about Gibbs, and some of the more gruesome details of the things Stratton did to him. He knew he had a lot more to tell before he could finish. And, hopefully get Jarvis on board to get Latham. But it was overwhelming. And he still wasn't sure how he'd managed to survive.

Gibbs had turned to lean on the wall, watching Tony's face, as he'd recounted this part the ugly and chilling experience. McGee had finally sat down, in a chair and was leaning forward, elbows on knees, unable to look at any of them while he listened. He looked like he was going to be sick.

ZIva had resumed pacing, and hearing the story as well, but now occasionally let out a little hiccup as she angrily swiped at her tears.

Only Vance and Ducky seemed to remain, oddly still, with a grim set to their mouths.

Gibbs shook his head. It was too much. "I should be in there with him." He stood away from the wall, listing towards the door.

Ducky gently grabbed his arm, "Jethro, I don't know if he could get through it, with you there." His tone was gentle as he looked at the grief in Gibbs' eyes. "I think we should let him finish it, with Jarvis, if he's able. There will be time for all of us, later. He's home, and alive, and it seems that is clearly a miracle. Let's try to focus on that."

The words were soothing to them all, and Gibbs took a deep breath, and nodded, walking back to the glass.

Jarvis was looking a bit sickened himself. "Go on, Tony," he said gently.

Tony nodded slightly, and looked up from the table finally.

"I guess O'Shea wasn't expecting me to be there, looking like that, much less being called a spy."

Jarvis seemed to be thinking.

"He didn't believe it, did he?"

Tony smiled, "No."

"When did you see him next?"

"Later that night."

(Flashback)

They had brought Tony back to the interrogation room again, where he sunk into a corner, dazed and oblivious.

He'd just come from the seriously warped Latham dinner, which went more poorly this time because Tony was still tripping from the drugs that day. They miscalculated the dosage, and he couldn't manage to even eat. It wasn't for lack of hunger…but the food kept talking to him, telling him Latham was going to kill him.

When he crazily yelled at a potato to shut up, Latham gave up and had him sent back.

He sat in the corner, talking to himself, finally starting to straighten his head out. He laughed, suddenly finding what happened with the potato to be hilarious. He laughed and laughed, like a lunatic. He wondered if they had thought of the possibility he would just simply go insane, and not be of any use for their purposes.

"Oh. Well, then they'll just finally kill you, DiNozzo." He realized the sad truth of that. Of having been put through all of it, never to see Gibbs, or Abby, or any of them again. He closed his eyes, and put his hands over his face in despair.

Just then, in the dark, the hatch opened. It wasn't the usual time for Stratton to play his sick games…but maybe it was going to be something new, that the sadistic bastard had planned for him.

He stayed in the corner, watching the lone figure approach him. In the darkness, he finally made out this was a much bigger person that Stratton.

"_Tony_!" A voice whispered sharply, as a hand gently rested on his shoulder.

He flinched and gasped at the contact, but relaxed as soon as he heard, "It's Brian. _Man_ are you in deep shit! What the Hell did you do? I know you are no spy. No _way_."

Tony said as strongly as he could, "No, I'm not. I would never. You know me. Latham is dirty, Bri. You have to believe me…"

"Latham?" Brian said softly, in surprise.

"Yes. He's been stealing microchips…killing people for them, that…" Tony suddenly faded a bit…the whispers had stated getting louder for a moment.

"Tony… God they really screwed you up in here, didn't they? You looked pretty bad outside today man."

Suddenly Tony felt overwhelmed, that after so many weeks, there was someone who would believe him, and gave a damn about what was happening to him. Tears sprang from his eyes…he was for once grateful it was so dark in the room.

O'Shea felt him shaking.

"Don't worry man, I'm gonna figure something out. I paid off the PO outside to let me talk to you and keep his mouth shut. It cost me DiNozzo. You're gonna owe me big bucks for this."Tony knew the men Stratton had picked to be involved with his "re-programming" were none too scrupulous. They could be bought...but he worried about them ratting O'Shea out.

Tony chuckled through his tears. Then he warned, "Bri, don't let on to Latham or Stratton, or anyone you know…**they will** **kill you**."

"You're always trouble, Agent Afloat. Next time I come…I'm gonna try to get you outta here…just gonna try to do it without ending up in the brig…"

"That might be a good idea. No one can know that you helped me. I don't want you in the middle of this mess….but…" Tony trailed off, unable to finish saying that O'Shea was his only hope.

"It's okay, Tony" O'Shea squeezed his arm. "Right is right." Tony smiled. O'Shea had said those same words, during Tony's investigation into the false accusations made against him on the Sea Hawk.

And with that he was gone. He knew O'Shea was going to do what he could, and try to see what the truth was for himself.

Tony just hoped Brian wouldn't end up like E.J.

(End Flashback)

"When did you see him next?" Jarvis knew at this point there was more to it.

Tony tilted his head a little and raised his eyebrows.

"When he busted me out."

**A/N:** I'm getting blurry ! Must break ! Probably a million type o's. Please let me know what you think of this spin off on the original story. All you good readers who inspire – many many thanks !


	8. Chapter 8

They were a riveted to the glass. Even the video tech seemed to be mesmerized by the story.

Gibbs shook his head slightly to himself. He knew how isolated Tony must have felt…but with the torture and the drugs…_God._ O'Shea's appearance must have been like a revelation.

Tony shifted a little in his chair now. He was starting to look a little flushed. He reached for the water bottle again.

As he took a swallow, he looked around the room, and then down again. His expression was unreadable. He closed up the bottle, and put it back on the table. He tiredly looked back to Jarvis, who had seemed to be growing more patience as the interview went on.

Tony sighed again, and spoke.

"It was several days later, or…nights later, when he came for me. It was after the "nice" cycle. Which had not gone well …again"

(Flashback)

Tony was huddled in the corner again. He could smell the fresh wash of bleach they'd given the room before they brought him back.

Latham's dinner had gone very awry – he'd even called Stratton in, after Tony fell out of the chair, nearly passing out on the floor.

"I told you not to screw this up. " Latham's tone was filled with rage. "We have the last sale in three weeks. I **need **this prick to off Jarvis for us. It solves most of our problems if Jarvis is dead and this one rots in prison."

Stratton was silent for a moment. "The doc patched him up after today's session, and gave him a shot of morphine so he could sit up in the chair. It must be knocking him out." Stratton didn't sound worried, just perhaps slightly perplexed.

"I told you to stay in _certain parameters_…we are close to being done with this operation. No more mistakes. If we can't get this done soon, we'll have to dump him and figure out another way to get rid of Jarvis with no trail."

"Yes sir."

"Get him out of here'" Latham growled, disgustedly.

Tony was still feeling the throbbing pain of Stratton's knife work on his body. He was hopeful after seeing O'Shea, and somehow Stratton had smelled resolve on the tormented Agent. And decided to push things. The doctor had spent a lot of time on the stitches.

Tony didn't even hear the hatch this time. He'd fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Someone was shaking him.

"Wha-" he jumped, raising his arms up in defense, adrenaline immediately triggered in his body.

"Shhhh. Easy, DiNozzo." It was O'Shea. Do you think you're able to walk?"

"Uh…yeah. What…what exactly is the plan, Bri ?"

"I'm breakin' you out, buddy." He helped Tony up on his shaky legs. "I made a few levels in my flight training, and the job opened up with O.N.I. for Maintenance Division Officer for the flight deck on The Phantom. They have two MH-60 Multi-missions that're gassed and ready to go. I can fly those. We're takin' one and gettin' the Hell outta' here. Now put these on." He handed Tony some clothing, a uniform for a PO 2nd class.

Tony hesitated. "Bri…they might kill us…" Tony wanted to escape so badly, he was desperate. But they could both easily end up dead.

"Tony," he said slowly, "I'm not leaving you here to Stratton one more day. No one on this ship really knows who you are…much less even knows you're here. That alone is pretty suspicious. And once I gave another _five hundred_ dollars – by the way, I'm out of money and it's on your tab too - to one of Stratton's mongrels…to find out what they knew. They told me…they told me what he's been doing to you…" He heard O'Shea's voice crack a little, and he swallowed harshly. "And the bottom line is that Latham _can't_ come after us unless he makes this more…public. Well, he could, but he'd have to kill us… But at least among the Watcher Fleet, any video or call to assist is gonna' bust him having you here, without anyone else's knowledge or consent. He won't have anyone to come after us from this ship…the pilots are decorated officers...it would buy time. As long as you've got my six on this I shouldn't end up in the brig for theft of an aircraft…" he chuckled softly. "Hurry up, DiNozzo!"

"But…" Tony breathed out the words, "I dunno even know where we are…." Tony began to remove the scrubs, and was incredibly relieved they were still in the dark, where the damage to his body wouldn't be visible to his friend.

"We're in the Tyrrhenian Sea, off Sardegna. And…Tony, I've been checking out the surveillance suite. Those guys are locked up like Knox. Only six men have clearance, working in shifts of four with Stratton and Latham. And they aren't permitted out of quarters unless going to and from the suite. It's ridiculous, and the other ships don't run that way. We've all had to have thorough and high end clearance to even _be_ _on_ these ships." O'Shea seemed to be thinking to himself, but suddenly said, "Let's go. I'm taking us right into the Cagliari base once we get to Sardegna."

He gently pulled Tony along towards the hatch. Tony tripped over the form of man on the floor…"I thought you said you bribed them, O'Shea."

He could see O'Shea's smile, now fully visible in the ambient light of the ship as he carefully opened the hatch.. "I used up the rest of my cash, DiNozzo, so I just cold cocked that one. He never saw it comin'. Besides, we needed his clothes."

Tony tried to walk naturally, next to O'Shea, but it was difficult because he was weak and the morphine had worn off, sending flashes of hot pain up and down his body.

They made it, all the way to the flight deck. The MH-60's were just about 60 feet away. Tony looked dazedly out onto the sea from the rails. The water was only several shades lighter than the inky sky. The wind was tolerable, though now they were out in the open. They were about to make for the chopper, when a voice called angrily from behind them.

"Stop ! Right there !" It was Stratton, with his gun raised.

_No !_ _Shit !_ Tony's blood froze. He and O'Shea both turned around.

Stratton was breathing a bit heavily, having run to the only way of escape off the ship. Next to him was one of the men O'Shea had bribed.

"You are so much more trouble than you're worth," he said it in a low growl towards Tony. "And you…" Stratton looked at O'Shea, "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you're in a lot of trouble."

The other man came to stand closer to O'Shea, awaiting Stratton's orders. At least he was not armed, since he was regular crew and Stratton hadn't expected Tony to have an accomplis.

Stratton was furious. Tony could see the glittering madness overcoming the man's dark eyes. He'd looked like that sometimes while torturing Tony.

Tony knew they had to get away now, or they were both going to be food for the sharks in the Tyrrhenian Sea. Co_me closer you bastard_, he thought, gathering whatever strength he had.

"Don't wanna let me go huh?" Tony asked snarkily. "I think you _really_ have a thing for me Stratton. It's okay. Not the first time a guy's had a little crush on me…"

Stratton's face went stonier, but he came closer to Tony, not noticing he'd dropped one of his hands down from the gun. He was staring at him…it was murder, in his eyes this time. He was about to say something to Tony when it all went crazy.

Tony slapped the wrist holding the gun, and because Stratton was so caught up in the moment he hadn't expected it. It went flying out of his hand as Tony punched him with the other hand.

In his periphery, O'Shea had knocked the other man down, and they were brawling on the ground.

Stratton had kicked at Tony, catching him in the thigh, where he knew Tony had suffered some of his knife work earlier that day. Tony fell back for a moment, crying out in pain. As Stratton went for the gun, Tony got him from behind, one arm around his neck. Stratton choked, but Tony pulled back, and all the weeks of torture and humiliation flitted through his mind. He vaguely remembered, Rivkin had almost killed him this way…

Stratton kicked, but Tony felt the pain and anger consume him. He saw the man's face in his mind, smiling as Tony had cried and begged for him to stop dragging his dulled knife blade down his back. Tears flowed from him now quietly, as he used up the last of his strength, squeezing until the man went limp.

Without hesitation, Tony picked him up, and threw him over the rail.

He collapsed onto his knees, and almost passed out, but someone was shaking him again. He couldn't understand why.

He looked up at the blue eyes staring at him, the words were imploring him to do something…

"Come on ! Tony, snap out of it man !" O'Shea was begging. Tony seemed dazed, and almost limp with exhaustion.

He dragged Tony up with him, practically lifting him off his feet and went for the chopper.

As Tony looked back, he saw the other man, Stratton's henchman, on the deck floor, unmoving.

(End Flashback)

Tony took a break. He knew that what he'd done to Stratton was justifiable, that he'd snapped from the weeks of torture. But he didn't think they would understand it. So he'd left out the part where he'd paid the bastard back, paid him back the same way he'd killed E.J. He told them that he'd left Stratton on the deck, unconscious.

Jarvis smiled. "You're telling me, that you and O'Shea, stole an MH-60 off an O.N.I cruiser?"

Tony raised his eyebrows, "Oh, well, technically, , it was Brian. I dunno squat about helicopters."

In observation, they were stunned. But Gibbs was smiling. "No man gets left behind," he said softly.

"It's really…hot in here." Tony said softly. Since the water appeared not to be drugged, he asked for more.

Jarvis turned toward the mirror and nodded at them.

A moment later, one of the agents from the hallway came in, putting two bottles on the table.

Tony was grateful it wasn't one of his team. He wasn't sure he could bear it, the way they were probably looking at him now from behind the glass.

"So," Jarvis urged, "you were on the chopper. Then what?"

"First control radio'd us, because we had no clearance to lift. Then, Latham radio'd us. Threatening us to come back. - actually, he just threatened me. He still didn't know it was Brian flying. Thing is…Latham didn't know _what_ to do, I think. If he deployed the other chopper to come after me, and try to shoot me down, he'd have to explain that to the President. Explain who was flying and why he used extreme force to shoot down an MH-60. They cost a pretty penny, right?"

"He never thought you'd escape." Jarvis said it softly.

"No. And he painted himself into a box with that one. But…I'm sure he was happy later, when the chopper crashed."

"_What?"_

"The chopper…we crashed it."

(Flasback)

Tony wasn't sure how, but he'd gotten off the ship. He was finally coming back to his senses when he realized he was strapped into the cockpit of the MH-60, and they were in the sky. It was just dawn, the sky behind them starting to glow peach.

"Bri?" he looked over at O'Shea, who smiled at him wanly.

"Hey, DiNozzo, you scared the Hell outta' me back there. You had some kinda' fit…or something. You feel okay?"

Tony looked at his friend, and noticed the blood. It was soaked into O'Shea's right sleeve.

"You're bleeding."

"Yeah…turned out, that jackass had a knife. Got me in the scuffle…before I could take him down."

He looked at Tony, his eyes unwavering. "I may not be able to fly this thing much longer. I don't suppose…you had any flight training?"

Tony stared at him, mouth agape. He was horrified. And he knew, they were still going to be food for the sharks in spite of all the effort taken to escape.

Then he smiled, a sad smile. His voice was thick with emotion, "Lotta' good you got for rescuing me, O'Shea…I'm…"

"DiNozzo, I'm gonna' get that money back…" he was cutting off Tony's apology. "You're…not getting out of it." He was slurring slightly. "I can take us down…we just have to swim west. We'll only be a few hundred miles out."

Tony swallowed, his eyes glistening. He shook his head at the irony of it all.

"Oh. Is that all."

O'Shea sighed. "Don't you wanna' use your suave Eye-talian on the ladies of Sardegna?""

Tony snorted. "I don't _speak_ Italian. Just because I _am_ Italian. Though… I did have some Italian girlfriends who taught me a little…"

O'Shea was hitting buttons, watching the horizon mark on the cockpit track screen.

"Well, in that case…you're just gonna' get slapped a lot."

Tony smiled, but he could tell they were on a slow descent, and fear was gripping his insides.

"We've got some…floaty, inflato-type things in here, right?"

O'Shea looked at him, pale and smiling again, with humor in his eyes.

He asked gently, "Aside from your big head, DiNozzo?"


	9. Chapter 9

"So…we went down. But, O'Shea did good. And the MH-60 can float a bit. I think I may have cracked my ribs on the landing…can't figure how else I did it…" he was looking at the table again, trying to remember the details correctly for himself.

"So, then what?" Jarvis asked.

"You know the rest I think, Mr. Secretary."

"I suspect I do, Tony," he said gently. "But I need you to tell me."

Tony scratched his head for a moment, and blew out a shaky breath.

"We both got out, in life vests. The chopper was floating in the wrong direction, so we did our best to get off quickly…we…tied a line to each other. I was pretty worn out. And Brian, he…he was still bleeding from the wound in his neck…." Tony closed his eyes again, brow knitting together. He made himself open his eyes, though he knew they were watery. _Don't lose it now, not now DiNozzo…_

He licked his lips again slowly, looking to the side and then back to Jarvis.

(Flashback)

O'Shea was giving as best he could, swimming and almost pulling Tony for a while. The water was roughly 70 degrees, thankfully not too cold.

Tony wondered if they would both be eaten by sharks. For some reason, he thought about the chatty potato he yelled at in Latham's state room. He would have laughed but he didn't want to swallow more seawater than he already had.

O'Shea started to flag, and Tony took the emergency compass off him, treading water for a bit. The sun was burning their skin now, and he guessed it was about noon.

"O'Shea," Tony called to him, seeing the blue eyes closing in the deathly pale face.

"Come on, "he begged, "stay with me O'Shea." He tapped his cheek.

He heard a moan, and the eyes were staring at him again. Tony was trying to swim in the right direction while talking to his friend.

"What'sa…matter…DiNozzo…you see land yet?" he asked hopefully. He was starting to lose his awareness.

"No, Bri, I was.. just thinking…" he turned to swim in the right direction, pulling O'Shea as best he could with him. "How easy… it's gonna be…to drink you under the table …now. You been at sea how long ? I'll even… make you a bet-" Tony choked on some water –"I can win …all that money… I owe you back."

"You're…a…punk…Di…DiNozzo…" it was weak, but Tony was grateful to hear his voice.

Tony wasn't able to keep talking to him and swim. He was trying to concentrate. His body was past the point of exhaustion. But he had to keep going for both their sakes. At least Latham would have seen on the radar that the chopper had gone down. And probably thought Tony was dead. _Maybe I am dead, and I just don't know it yet,_ he thought grimly.

He took breaks, checking on O'Shea, who became less and less responsive as the day went on, until Tony only got the faintest of moans from him.

He started to feel it was hopeless. How far could they have gotten?

_We're gonna die out here, because of those scumbags, Stratton and Latham_… he thought angrily.

He wondered if they had any idea what happened to him at home, after he had disappeared. They couldn't have…because he knew Gibbs would have tried to come for him.

He had thought a lot about them over the last several weeks of his captivity. He missed them all so much. It hurt.

He wondered if it had been different, had he told Gibbs the truth about the chip the night he went to his house. But he also felt so angry with him, after he saw the file box in Gibbs' basement.

He had gone down and emptied the scrap glass, as he had seen Gibbs do many times, wiping it out to pour a shot of Bourbon. Tony had done it, thinking, he would need it to help him face the man's anger when he found out what he had done. He needed to tell him. Gibbs was the only person who could possibly help.

A screw had rolled from the glass as he'd emptied it, making a little sound as it went to the side of the room. Tony reached for it, under a workbench along the wall, and saw the file box there. He knew he was being nosey, but hey, they all knew he was. He figured it was Gibbs' fault if he saw anything he wasn't supposed to. He listened for the stairs for a moment, then smiled and opened the box.

On top lay a file, with the words "Phantom Eight" jumping out at him. Within a few minutes he had perused it quickly, finding the photo of Latham and Stratton in the original group.

His heart was beating loudly in his hears.

Gibbs hadn't told him.

His hands shook now, in shock and anger, and he put it all back quickly. He took a few paces, putting his hands to his head. Oh, Goooood," he groaned to himself. "You'd think after all this, time, you wouldn't be doing this to me anymore."

Tony felt crushed. The only time he ever lied to Gibbs was when ordered to. And even then, he had still come to him during the mole hunt with Cade.

Gibbs on the other hand…starting back with Domino, had kept things from him when he _chose_ to. And Tony understood Gibbs felt he had good reasons…but as time went on and their relationship, their friendship deepened, he was somehow expecting it to change. He thought maybe after he had almost been killed this time, there would be no more secrets. And _now this_? If he had only seen that picture before Jarvis cornered him in the coffee shop…

A splash of seawater snapped him out of his reverie.

"I…don't wanna die…mad at you Boss…" he said to himself, pushing on now as the sky was darkening.

He forced himself to think about happier times with Gibbs, even getting his head smacked. In spite of all the torture he went through, he still smiled at that. "And that…is…funny," he said to himself, smiling what he knew must look like a madman's grin.

Some time later, he took a break, and pulled O'Shea to him.

"Bri…" he called, tapping the man's face again, as he'd done earlier.

Nothing.

He was so still…

Tony felt for a pulse.

"Well…shit, O'Shea," he said, letting out a sob.

He tenderly touched the man's face, and hair, not caring he had stopped swimming and was just floating now.

He knew the logical thing.

But he didn't care at this point.

"I'm not leaving you," he hiccupped the words out, choking on the salt water and his tears.

He grabbed O'Shea's vest, and pulled him to him. He put his arms around him, and cried, not caring anymore if the ocean swallowed them both.


	10. Chapter 10

He'd passed out at some point, exhaustion and dehydration getting the better of him. It was morning, when he heard the voices.

Was it the voices in his mind returning ? ...no…they didn't speak Italian.

Something bumped into him, jarring his body, reminding him painfully of his side which he'd hurt when the chopper went down.

Cracking his eyes open, he saw an expanse of white.

He heard a woman's voice. "Fermati! Proprio la'. Esatto. O, mio Dio... Matteo, uno di loro... sembra  
>morto. Fa in fretta! Sbrigati!"<p>

It was a boat...a yacht of some type. He tried to keep his eyes open but...he was so tired…

Hands reached for him.

"Tienilo per le spalle... sì, così." It was a man's voice now."Io ho le gambe."

He was lifted up onto the deck of the boat, the line to O'Shea still pulling until they took off his life jacket. He heard them pull his body on board as well.

"Maria, radio la polizia, dì loro che abbiamo trovato qualcuno in acqua. Torniamo in porto. Sembra ferito... L'altro... è con Dio adesso." A gentle hand checked Tony's pulse and stroked his face for a moment.

He suddenly realized he had heard the word radio... _Oh God…The Phantom could pick up the transmission, Latham might hear it._.."No!" he rasped out. "No radio...Per favore…no radio...too dangerous! Morta !" He struggled to remember any words he could to make them understand. "If they hear you...they'll kill us all..." he coughed a bit. "Morte...all of us...please!" The coughing fit worsened and he felt like the world was spinning.

"Va bene, va bene signore. No radio. Tranquillo... per favore..." The voice soothed.

He nodded, still unable to open his eyes. He said softly, "Cagliari...Navy...U.S. Navy base..."

He heard them talking in low voices, presumably looking at O'Shea.

"Portiamoli in porto e la' troveremo dei poliziotti - " He heard the man say, and their voices started sounding far away... " L'uniforme è americana..…"

And then darkness claimed him again.

(End Flashback)

He had stopped talking, and looked off to the side for a while. He hadn't told them the part about Gibbs...he would never betray him like that to Jarvis.

Gibbs saw the strain...Tony looked so close to cracking now, it was coming off the younger man in waves, and he was trembling. It had taken a toll on him, going over what had happened to O'Shea. The observation room was silent except for the occasional sniffle from Ziva.

Vance had told Gibbs, Brian O'Shea's body was being shipped stateside, and coming straight to Ducky.

Jarvis cleared his throat, bringing Tony out of the daze he'd gone into.

"So..." Tony said softly," the rest, you know. They took us in to the Carabinieri, the Sardinian Police, who took us straight to the Cagliari Navy base. They called you...and here I am."

Jarvis shook his head. "This is almost too much to believe."

Tony's posture changed, as he stared at Jarvis. "You want proof Clay? Well, then, **let's get it!** There are at least 700 patriots in that fleet who have no idea how Latham is using O.N.I. to sell us out. He's already done incredible damage to the country…you tell him I'm alive yet, by the way?" Tony looked at him intensely, waiting for his response.

"No, I haven't spoken to him about you, and was careful to control communications from Cagliari. I wasn't aware you had been on the ship….or the MH-60. He doesn't know."

Tony looked down again, his jaw working a little in anger.

Jarvis sighed." I believe you, Tony."

Tony nodded, and let out a long breath. "He's coming after you, and when he finds out I'm alive, he'll try for me too. And we have about two weeks or less before he sells that microchip." Tony looked up at him, expectantly. "I'd figure since you helped make this mess, you'll wanna' clean it up."

Jarvis nodded and sighed. "We'll have to figure out what the next move is."

"Whatever it is, it better be good. And I want in."

"You're not in any shape-"

"They gave me 120 volts, a few times a day, ," Tony hissed, tilting his head, "Don't you think that's earned me a little _**closure**_?"

Jarvis was silent for a moment.

"Agent DiNozzo, I think we're done for now. I'm sure your team is looking forward to seeing you, and you probably need more medical attention as well." He got up from the table.

"I wanna' know what you're planning to **do** about this, Mr. Secretary, "Tony said, a bit loudly.

Tony 's eyes glittered at Jarvis with fury. He stood up quickly…too quickly.

Suddenly, his expression changed, and he looked dazed, and leaned his one hand on the table. A painful frown now crept across his face as he pinched his eyes closed, holding the one arm tight to his body.

Gibbs knew what was coming. He turned quickly to the door, "Get in there, Duck. _Now_. He's at the end of his damned rope..." They all ran after him into the hallway.

They saw Tony on the floor when they burst open the door, Jarvis leaning over him and calling to him.

"I think you've done enough, Mr. Secretary," Gibbs said angrily, putting his hand on Jarvis's shoulder.

Jarvis backed off while Ducky quickly kneeled at Tony's side.

Tony had simply collapsed, face up on the floor, one leg bent and opposite arm splayed out from his side.

Ziva and McGee stood back, wanting to do something, but as Jarvis started walking out to Vance in the hallway, Gibbs caught the Israeli's movement from the corner of his eye.

He grabbed her arm, and she looked at him. He saw the revenge, brightly burning in her eyes.

"Not now," he said quietly. He didn't blame her. He wanted to shoot Jarvis himself.

"But…Gibbs-" she said in a strangled whisper.

"Let's worry about Tony, for now," he nodded towards the agent on the floor, who let out a small moan.

She stared into his ice blue eyes for a moment, and nodded, body relaxing, and suddenly looking back at Tony.

"He's got a fever," Ducky said, as he opened the top buttons of Tony's shirt to give him access with a stethoscope.

That's when McGee gasped.

Now they got a taste of the reality, around Tony's neck and just a small patch of his chest was bruising in a collage of colors. They could almost date the weeks of abuse he'd suffered.

Gibbs knew there was probably a lot worse underneath his friend's clothing. He swore under his breath, heart aching.

"Oh'" Ducky said sadly, "my poor boy. I'm so sorry for what you went through." He looked at Gibbs. "We should get him to Bethesda."

It killed Gibbs to say it. "No. Too dangerous. Stratton almost got to him there before. We can't risk they'll find out. You'll have to check him out downstairs, Duck. If it's anything life threatening, that's another story. They also gave him a once over at the base. For now…"

"He's in too much danger," McGee finished.

Gibbs nodded. He turned to kneel on the other side of Tony, while Ducky got something out of his live kit.

"Tony," Gibbs gently tapped at his face, noting the heat coming off his skin, as well as a few spots where it was peeling slightly from being burned a few days previously.

He saw Tony's head move slightly, but nothing else. He frowned with worry.

"Duck, he just passed out, right?" Gibbs said as he saw Ziva sneak around him to take Tony's hand in her two smaller ones.

"Yes, Jethro, I believe so. But…this should help," Ducky held a small vial under Tony's nose. Ammonia.

His eyes flew open, and he gasped and coughed a bit.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said more loudly, "you with us?"

"Yeah Boss," he choked out, blinking, and said weakly "but…I had the strangest dream…and you were there." Then he pointed at Ducky and said ,"and you were there…" then at Ziva, "and you were there…"

She looked confusedly at Gibbs as he snorted, a little smile on his lips.

"Come on," he said, helping Tony slowly sit up, "let's get you downstairs so Duck can get a better look at you."

Tony's eyes were semi-closed as they all helped him up and out of the room.

He muttered in a sleepy voice, "There's no place like home, Boss…"

**TRANSLATION OF ITALIAN**

***"Fermati! Proprio la'. Esatto. O, mio Dio... Matteo, uno di loro... sembra morto. Fa in fretta! Sbrigati!"

(Stop! Right there. That's it. Oh, my God…Matteo, one of them...Looks dead. Hurry! Hurry!)

***"Tienilo per le spalle... sì, così. Io ho le gambe."

(Get his shoulders…yes like that. I've got his legs.)

***"Maria, radio la polizia, dì loro che abbiamo trovato qualcuno in in porto. Sembra ferito... L'altro... è con Dio adesso. "

(Maria, radio the police, tell them we found someone in the water. And let's head for port. He looks injured…The other one… is with God now.)

***"Va bene, va bene signore. No radio. Tranquillo... per favore." The voice soothed.

(Okay, okay, mister. No radio. Easy…please.)

***"Portiamoli in porto e la' troveremo dei poliziotti -" He heard the man say, and their voices started sounding far away... "L'uniforme è americana..."

(Let's just take them to port and get the police there. The uniforms are American.)


	11. Chapter 11

As soon as they got him down to Autopsy, Gibbs pushed Ziva and McGee out. McGee already looked sick, and Ziva pale and wrung out. He knew if they saw more of Tony during Ducky's exam, McGee might pass out, and Ziva would run upstairs with her gun out, looking to make Jarvis bleed.

"But Gibbs…I want-" Ziva was loudly complaining.

"I know, Ziva," He said gently, "I _know_." He looked at her, at the unshed tears appearing in her eyes.

She frowned a little, and looked over at Tony, now with his eyes closed again, lying on the autopsy table. She shuddered.

"He…he is lucky to be alive." She swallowed harshly and looked up at Gibbs. "We almost lost him…forever…" her brow furrowed a bit.

He nodded, unable to respond himself, and pulled her into an embrace. After a moment, he gently pushed her out the door, where McGee was waiting to go up in the elevator with her.

Ducky had sent Palmer to prep the Xray room.

Gibbs turned to see Ducky gently trying to get Tony to sit up.

"I can do it Ducky," Tony breathed, wincing in pain.

Gibbs went to the table and helped them, standing in front of Tony and helping him swing his legs back over the edge of it. He was careful to only pull up on the shoulder opposite Tony's injured side.

Ducky went to place his hands on Tony's back to help push him up, but he yelped in pain, closing his eyes and clinging suddenly to Gibbs' shirt front with one hand. He let out a few short gasps.

"I'm so sorry, Anthony," Ducky said, and then looked at Gibbs contritely.

"S'okay, Duck," Tony said hoarsely, eyes closed and the top of his head now resting on Gibbs' chest.

Gibbs still had one hand on his shoulder, and the other now, absently cupping the back of Tony's head.

"What do you need next, Duck?" Gibbs asked softly.

"I want to x-ray those ribs…and take a look now to see if we should take films on anything else. I think we also need to make sure he isn't developing pneumonia." He moved around the room to pull over an I.V. cart. "After that I want two full bags of fluids in him…I have enough for the basics here. If his lungs aren't bad I still want him on anti-biotics right away…likely I'll consult Dr. Pitt. I think we should trust he be discrete for Tony's sake."

Gibbs nodded his agreement, while Tony had seemed to be leaning more heavily against him.

"Anthony," Ducky called, "I need you to remove some of your clothing. Down to your skivvies, if you would. We can help you…"

"I got it Duck," Gibbs said, pushing Tony to sit upright, while he looked at Gibbs with a dazed expression.

"Did they do anything for you at Cagliari?" Ducky asked. "Did they take blood, at least?"

"Uh…" Tony was speaking as if in a dream state now, looking down and then up to Gibbs while he continued. "Yeah, they did…it's coming in with…with Brian…" he seemed not to be able to say more, and looked away again.

He was unbuttoning his shirt, unsuccessfully with one hand, until Gibbs swatted his hands away to do it for him.

"Did they treat you for anything?" Ducky tried to clarify for him.

Gibbs' hands were starting to shake a little as the open shirt started to reveal more vicious looking injuries.

"No…I…I'm a little fuzzy. I think, fluids, and an antibiotic drip of some kind, and they wrapped my ribs…but, they, ahh…couldn't tape them."

He still wasn't looking at Gibbs.

As he pulled Tony's shirt off, and away with great care, the ace bandage type wrapping they used didn't cover all the bruises, small burns, and stitched up cuts in varying lengths, that in places, criss-crossed. The cuts, like the bruises, were in varying stages of healing.

Gibbs saw Ducky's reaction, as He looked at Tony's back. The M.E.'s eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked stunned. His eyes darkened and got watery as he shook his head , trying to control his reaction. He looked up at Gibbs, anguished.

"Lean him forward again, Jethro," he said gently. And as Gibbs did that, he reached to unwind the bandage wrap.

Tony felt the touch, and though he knew it was Ducky, he reacted much the same way he had on the Navy base, in the Cagliari medical facility.

He flashed back to the hands that had touched him to cause him pain, to his tormentor, Stratton, and his leering smile.

Tony started shaking violently, grasping again at the front of Gibbs' shirt.

All Gibbs could do, was rub the back of Tony's head, and murmur that he was safe, and home, and that he was going to be okay. He knew it wasn't enough, because what could be said to really make this better?

Gibbs felt the warmth and wetness of tears, soaking through his shirt, as Tony continued to shake and breathe in choking gasps.

"I…really…missed you, Boss…" he said almost in a groan into Gibbs' chest.

Gibbs swallowed, afraid his own voice would betray the emotion that ripped through him in waves.

"We missed you too, kid," he whispered, leaning his chin on top of Tony's head, gently pulling him tighter after Ducky took off the last of the wrapping.

Gibbs could see down on Tony's back now, to what Ducky had been looking at.

His own eyes became blurry, and he looked up in a silent prayer, that somehow, they were going get him through this, and make the bastards who did it pay.

**A/N :** More coming by Monday !


	12. Chapter 12

Ducky poured out the drinks for both himself and Gibbs. His hand shook as he passed Gibbs the shot of whiskey.

They'd seen the nightmarish proof of the torture, from Tony's back and chest, down to about his knees. The stitches and the discoloration, and the occasional burn scar, ranged from angry red purple to green to yellow. The side where his ribs were fractured was almost black with bruising.

After getting rest of his clothes off, they switched him to one of the gurneys to make him more comfortable, placing a sheet over him.

And when Ducky had approached him with a needle to draw a blood sample, Tony had just about unraveled in front of them, losing focus and begging, "Please...no more drugs...please..." he shook his head, eyes filled with terror.

It had triggered a flashback of some kind, that had them scrambling to keep him on the gurney.

"Tony," Gibbs tried to soothe, "No one's going to hurt you. Ducky needs to take a little blood, that's all." He once again stood close, putting his hand on Tony's shoulder to steady him.

Suddenly, Tony had a strange look on his face. "Boss...I...they keep whispering things, I can't understand..." his green eyes were imploring and glassy. His voice rose a little "I can never hear what they're saying...that could drive you crazy…" he was starting to list to the side.

"Duck!" Gibbs called, as Tony seemed to be losing strength, and he eased him back to lie down. Ducky looked worriedly at their friend.

As Ducky raised a hand to Tony's forehead, as the agent mumbled something else, and stared languidly at Gibbs through half lidded eyes.

Ducky shook his head. "I need my thermometer. I believe that was a combination of his fever rising and those damned drugs."

Gibbs looked at Tony, pushing the sweaty hair from his face as he fell asleep. He'd never made this kind of contact with the younger man, but the condition he was in…Gibbs shook his head sadly.

Ducky ran the thermometer. "102. Not good, but… not dangerous. We will have to watch that. Let me take the blood while he's resting."

Tony only flinched when Ducky inserted the needle.

Just as he was finishing up, the door flew open, and Abby ran in saying loudly, "**Where is he**? _Gibbs_, you didn't tell me he was-"

She stopped in her tracks, seeing Tony, only half covered with a sheet. Gibbs quickly went to her, and she collapsed against him, breathless at the shock of how he looked.

"Oh..._Tony_..."she said quietly, starting to cry as she stared at him. She pushed away from Gibbs and went to him, hands up but uncertain what to do as her eyes scanned the visible injuries and then went to his face. "_Tony_..." she wept softly as she put her shaking fingertips to his jaw. He turned his head a bit, unknowingly in his fevered sleep, away from her touch.

"Abigail," Ducky began softly, with a hand on her back, "he's going to be-"

"_Don't_ say _okay_, Ducky," she said, her gravelly voice filled with sorrow. How can this be okay?" she sniffed, turning to Gibbs, huge tears rolling away from her eyes.

"Gibbs," she choked, "who did this?" she was beyond rage. "**Who**?"

"We will handle it, Abs," Gibbs said to her, as stating a fact. He walked to stand at her other side, placing a hand on her back. "I promise you," it was almost a low growl, "they'll pay."

She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded.

She turned back to Ducky, grabbing him into an embrace. "Okay, _now_...now tell me he's gonna' be okay..."

They had Palmer take Tony in for x-rays while attempting to calm Abby. She was red eyed and shaken when Gibbs had McGee come down to get her and take her back to the lab with Tony's blood sample.

Once they were alone again, the ME. broke his own rule of never drinking during work hours.

Gibbs swallowed down the whiskey in one shot, feeling it burn for a moment. He leaned against the wall while Ducky sat.

They were quiet for a moment, before Ducky broke the silence.

"I haven't got words, for this, Jethro." he sighed, and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "I don't know how Tony survived it."

"I'm not sure he has yet, Duck...his mind..."

"Yes, I know, the body will heal, but the rest..." Ducky shook his head, "well it's unpredictable how much of a long term effect the hallucinogens will have. And then there's the trauma...he's going to have a difficult time of it..."

"Let's take it one day at a time, but we've got even bigger problems right now."

"Stratton and Latham," he said darkly. "There is no end too terrible for those two. I hope you make them _pay_, Jethro."

Gibbs nodded, taking note at how Ducky had said the words.

Palmer rolled the gurney back into the room, Tony lying on his good side, curled up with eyes closed.

The Assistant M.E. looked pale himself.

He spoke in a low tone to Ducky. "He had a lot of trouble lying flat when I took the incline down, and also standing up straight...he's in a lot of pain so it took a while to get the pictures."

Palmer's eyes were misty, as he leaned over and squeezed Tony's hand. "I'm sorry, Tony."

Tony kept his eyes closed as he murmured softly, "S'okay, Jimmy..."

Ducky patted Tony's shoulder very lightly, " Abby is checking your blood for me, and I'm going to make sure you get some pain medication as well as fluids. I just want to avoid doing you any more harm by not verifying what may still be in your system."

Tony nodded almost imperceptibly.

Palmer looked up at Gibbs. "How could this have happened?"

"It's about time I go ask Jarvis that myself."

Gibbs was furious.

He was clenching his hands into fists at his sides when he walked in unannounced to the Director's office. As he thought, Jarvis was there, talking to Vance.

They both stood up in surprise at his entrance.

"Jethro-" Vance began.

"_**Just what the Hell is wrong with you**_?" Gibbs immediately spat at Jarvis, with a glare that could freeze over the sun. "You_** blackmail**_ one of _**my **_agents to go on a mission for you without any real backup? _**You're **_the _**freaking Secretary **_Of The_** Navy !**_ You _**obviously**_ have your head _**up your own a**_-"

"**Gibbs!"** Vance stopped him as Jarvis shifted slightly on his feet.

Gibbs was almost shaking with rage.

"Special Agent Gibbs," Jarvis said calmly,"I realize my methods are not always-"

"_**Sane?"**_

"Conventional. But I assure you, I had no idea we were so compromised…it was Latham, he-"

"_Conventional?"_ Hell, I think it's _**plenty**_ conventional for a _**dictator**_."

"**Okay!"** Vance cried. "Enough! We need to stop this _**right now**_, and figure out what the next step is. Agent DiNozzo and Secretary Jarvis are _both_ in danger, and we have a vital piece of U.S. intelligence going up for sale in two weeks. We _also_ are now aware that other chips have been sold and need to find out to whom, before they pose any greater risk to our national security."

Gibbs continued to stare at Jarvis.

"Please, Agent Gibbs, sit down. If it makes any difference to you, I am truly sorry for what happened to Agent DiNozzo." Jarvis said sincerely.

_Are you sorry for Cade and Barett too ? And O'Shea ? And how about all the people who are gonna' die trying to clean up your mess ?_ Gibbs thought it, but sat down, knowing they had to think fast.

Jarvis took a deep breath. "Leon and I want to get the C.I.A. involved. It won't make me look good, but at this point, that's unavoidable."

Gibbs continued to stare at him while Vance looked between the two.

"I think we need to get them on the microchips that have been sold already, but it would help to have a list of buyers. SO…we will need that. And to get Latham, I think we need to try and set up a sting. Catch him in the act. But that…I want us to do. It's our mess."

"It's your mess, Mr. Secretary. You made it ours." Gibbs stated it simply.

Vance ignored him for the moment, and said thoughtfully, "We're gonna' need a pretty large piece of bait, to catch this fish."

"No." Gibbs said, as Jarvis looked at him curiously.

"We're gonna' need more than that… we're gonna' need to cast a net."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** A little thank you to Jonte. and anonymous readers – thank you so much – I can't respond to you though to express my gratitude individually, since the system does not allow.

Palmer helped Ducky get an I.V. into Tony, with a basic saline drip.

As Ducky was on the phone with Dr. Pitt, he found himself staring at the sleeping figure on the gurney.

He couldn't understand how anyone could purposely hurt another human being like that. They had seen very horrifying things in autopsy, but never done to someone so close to him. He absently wrung his hands together, feeling suddenly helpless.

"Alright, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said after hanging up the phone, "I'm adding in a broad spectrum anti-biotic and some percoset to our friends regimen. Be so kind as to go fill my requests at the pharmacy," he said, handing some scripts to him. "In the mean time, I'm going to give Tony a morphine injection, just to give him some relief until we have him taking the percoset."

"Ah, these are made out to me, Doctor Mallard..."

"Indeed they are, Mr. Palmer," he smiled slightly," certain people believe our friend is dead, and for now, we can't take any chances of his information being spread electronically."

"I understand. I'll be back then."

As the door closed, Ducky looked at Tony, who was moving a little again, mumbling something in his sleep. He groaned, brows knitting together.

"Tony," Ducky called gently, hoping to rouse him out of an unpleasant dream his fevered mind was producing.

Tony opened his eyes just for a moment and closed them again.

Ducky sighed deeply, "You're exhausted my poor, dear friend. And who could blame you."

The younger man flinched when he gave the morphine to him, injecting it into a part of his thigh where he knew there was less damage. It seemed to rouse him, as his eyes slowly opened again. He looked confused.

Just then, the door opened and it was McGee, poking his head in, looking inquisitively at Ducky.

Ducky motioned to him, "Come in, Timothy. He's just waking again, I believe."

McGee approached Tony, seeing a bit less than Abby had, since they had covered the injured agent up to keep him warm.

Still, plenty could be seen on Tony's chest and the one arm on top of the sheets, the one with the I.V. in it.

He looked up at Ducky, tearfully, and quietly wiped at his face while he looked back down at Tony.

Ducky turned to give them a moment, and review Tony's xrays, one more time.

"Tony..." McGee put a hand gently on his friend's arm, trying to avoid some of the cuts and bruises. "I'm so sorry."

"What're you sorry for McGoo..." it was a soft murmur, as Tony looked at him sleepily. "I'm the one who was a complete dick to you and punched you in the nose." He let out a soft chuckle. "Boy was Gibbs mad at me."

McGee snorted. "Yeah, you did. And that really _hurt_ Tony." Suddenly he realized how stupid it was to complain about that, in light of what Tony had suffered.

"M'sorry, Tim...I thought...I was protecting you guys..."

"I understand Tony, and...you did. You did protect us. Though I wish you'd found another way...maybe told us..." McGee was trying to reign in his emotions," I'm...I'm so glad you made it back alive...we had no idea what happened to you. We looked into every old case, even your cases from Baltimore."

He saw Tony's one brow lift.

"And Gibbs was suspecting Jarvis had you on another op, but, he got no indication from Vance that you'd been given a mission. He's been…meaner than usual, which puts him on deck with…I dunno, the antichrist maybe. We were all so worried…but it was like he _knew_. He knew you were still out there and it had something to do with Jarvis."

Tony blinked a few times, "Well he was right...that gut of his..." he stopped to lean forward and cough for a moment, "like the nose of a bloodhound...but it all happened so fast...because Jarvis let Latham in on the information."

"And...Stratton."

Tony nodded and seemed to shiver. "And Stratton..."

McGee saw the look in Tony's eyes, some horrific memory coming to surface. Then he seemed lose focus for a few moments, looking away from McGee.

McGee called his name, and got concerned when he got no response.

At the second attempt, Ducky heard the slight strain in McGee's tone, and walked over to look at Tony.

"What?" Tony asked softly after finally coming out of the daze.

"You okay, Tony?" McGee asked, with deep concern.

Tony looked at him for a moment, and said, "Oh, I think I'm pretty _far_ from okay, Tim, but...hey, my screws weren't all that tight before this were they, Probie?"

Before McGee could answer, Gibbs walked into the suite.

He gave them a quick assessing look and nodded wordlessly, and then strode over to Ducky.

"How is he?" he asked in a slightly hushed tone.

Ducky turned to him, "A bit more comfortable, I think, after I gave him a morphine injection for the pain. His blood sample revealed what we expected, traces of LSD and a few other things, one being a synthetic type of adrenaline, do doubt to keep him aware longer. The last of the drugs are working their way out of his system, and the levels are low. But when I have a look at the other sample they took on base in Cagliari tomorrow, I'll have an even better picture." Then the M.E walked a few paces to turn on the box lights to illuminate Tony's films. "Three broken ribs, right side, two just bruised, and thankfully no other damaged bones." He switched films. "His lungs don't show pneumonia yet, but with the bronchitis started and fever, Dr. Pitt and I decided on a long course of anti-biotics. Within a day or so the fever should come down. And we also agreed on some pain management, percoset."

Gibbs felt some relief was over him, but it was momentary as he thought of some things Ducky had left out.

"The cuts and burns?"

"I will remove the sutures when necessary, and the anti-biotics will help with any infection. It seems being immersed in the seawater dried them out, so they are healing. But we also applied burn cream where necessary."

"And...the long term effects of the drugs they gave him ?"

The room had become quiet, as McGee and Tony caught what they were saying and wanted to hear the rest.

He looked at Gibbs. "As you know, LSD can cause flashbacks, which can occur suddenly, often without warning, and may occur within a few days… or more than a year later. We will have to wait and see how it goes for Tony, but it may not be too bad."

"Not too bad..."Tony murmured, disgustedly. "I'm still seeing halos and hearing things...some Special Agent I'm gonna be now." Then, "OW!" as Gibbs smacked the back of his head on the gurney.

"You think you're getting outta' this job that easily, DiNozzo?" Gibbs growled.

"Ahhh, no Boss, not at all," Tony said weakly, smiling a little.

"Jethro, I hope you're going to be more gentle than that at home," Ducky scolded.

"At _home_?" McGee and Tony said it at the same time.

"Can't go back to your place. Too dangerous. And you're not exactly in any condition to be alone."

Tony glanced at McGee while he said, "He still likes me best."

Gibbs smiled at McGee's irritated expression.

Gibbs looked over at Tony in the car, as they stopped at a light.

He'd gotten up and around a bit better after the morphine, and Gibbs had the rest of the medications to administer at home.

Tony's head was leaning back, his eyes closed.

"You should take a picture, if you're gonna stare like that."

Gibbs snorted, "Just glad you're back, DiNozzo, just glad you're back."

They got into the house, and Gibbs ordered him to sit on the couch.

They were waiting for Ziva, who wanted to come over and see Tony. Gibbs told her to come bearing pizza.

As he got Tony's medication set up on the kitchen counter, he heard him ask, "So, what is the plan on Latham and the chip?"

Gibbs froze for a moment, feeling a little put off by Tony jumping right into it. He shouldn't have expected any different. But, they'd just gotten him back…_he_ had just gotten Tony back.

He walked into the living room, arms crossed as he leaned on the kitchen doorway.

"Maybe you could get some rest first and we could talk about it in the morning."

"Or maybe," Tony said with a little twist to his expression, "You'll just skim over it or happen to leave out a few more things then."

Gibbs stared at him for a moment. Out from the pale face the green eyes were bright with anger.

"Just what are you talking about _exactly_, DiNozzo, because I did catch the dig you threw me from interrogation…and I don't know what is in that head of yours. And," Gibbs started getting louder, pushing away up from the doorway, "while we're on the topic of _disclosure_ **what in the world** were you _**thinking**_ getting that chip _**implanted**_? Of all the stupid –"

"I was protecting the team," Tony growled angrily.

"**You are the team! **You're part of us too! He served you up on a frickin' platter to Latham. You had no **real** backup!"

"Tell me about it."

"**WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?"**

Tony shifted a bit on the couch leaning forward. "I **wanted** to tell you, Gibbs," he choked, "I was _**going**_ to tell you. And then I saw that _goddamned_ file-" he saw Gibbs' mouth suddenly hang open, -yes, _that_ one, on Phantom Eight."

Gibbs saw it now, so clearly, he groaned. "Tony-"

"**NO, GODDAMMIT!**" he stood up suddenly. His tone became sad, almost begging. "I wanted _you_ to trust _me _enough at this point to not keep important information from me ! I know you always have your reasons, but we're partners. I thought **we were past that ! **How long until I get to be in the** know? **I've only ever lied to you when I was **ordered **to do it! Gibbs, I-" he suddenly coughed harshly, a wet rumbling sound, and swayed, expression switching from fury to confusion.

"_Tony_," Gibbs called to him, a little anxiously, immediately going to his side to ease him back down onto the couch.

Tony had his eyes closed, and he was shaking. Gibbs knelt in front of him, one hand on his knee.

"You alright son?" His tone was gentle, though his heart was still pounding in his ears.

Tony cracked his eyes open, and frowned a little, sadly.

"Why Boss?" He continued weakly. "I should have seen that file, _way_ before Jarvis ever approached me to do the implant. I'm not saying it was a smart idea. But…if I had known Stratton…" the man's name made him swallow convulsively, "Stratton and Latham were in it together…I could've talked Jarvis out of it…maybe…or maybe none of it would've been different… I dunno." The last part was laced with defeat.

Gibbs looked into his green eyes and saw the deep well of hurt.

He looked down for a moment, swallowing back his own regret. He knew Tony was right.

He sighed sharply, "Tony, I-"

Just then, the front door opened, and Ziva entered, smiling, carrying a pizza box. "I hope I got the correct type of pizza you wanted," her tone cheerful, as she closed the door behind her.

Then she saw them, Gibbs crouched in front of Tony who looked like he was going to be sick.

"Is everything…alright?" She asked eyeing them both as Gibbs got up and took the pizza from her.

"Peachy," Tony muttered, and slumped back even further into the cushions.

Her eyebrows arched up, and she frowned, watching Gibbs walk stiffly into his kitchen with the box.

"I can see that," she said sourly.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Don't get crazy people. This is not a Tiva story. Just an emotional moment because of all the stress.

Gibbs went down to the basement, leaving Ziva and Tony to themselves.

She went into the kitchen, and brought him a slice of pizza. He managed a little over half, though it tasted like heaven to him, he could not keep more down.

"I got your spare clothes from your locker at work." she sat close to him, feet up on the couch.

"Thanks," he said as he leaned on his good side on the couch. "The clothes I have on came from a generous Sardinian policeman." It was comfortable on Gibbs' couch. And then he realized, "You don't have my combination."

She smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Oh right, you picked it. All those ninja skills and you used them to get into my...pants..." he grinned at her.

"You know, in spite of your adolescent comments...we missed you." she looked at him intently.

"We...or...you?"

She looked at him for a moment, wide-eyed, but then chortled. "Gibbs has been impossible."

"M'shocked."

"McGee has been a little lost."

"In spite of the whole nose business, huh ?"

"And Abby has been...well, she drained the Caf-Pow machine to empty three times in the time you were missing..."

"Did she glow in the dark?"

She smiled and shook her head. Then said more seriously, " We didn't know what happened to you...it was...difficult. For us all."

He gazed into her dark eyes, and sighed, looking down for a moment. "I didn't think I was gonna' make it home, Ziva. I'm not sure…even why I'm alive…"

He felt her hand, gently stroke his cheek. He leaned into it, closing his eyes. It was soft and cool against his hot skin.

"I was... so worried, about you," she said hoarsely.

He opened his eyes, and saw she was crying.

"Ziva," he whispered, pulling her close.

She put her arms around him, and rested her head on his shoulder.

"We almost lost you..."

"Well," he said, stroking her hair, "I'm the luckiest unlucky guy alive. Or...just very hard to kill."

She let out a shaky laugh. Then her hand hit the texture of stitches underneath the fabric on back of his shirt. She felt a little for the end of it, but it continued down to the bandaged wrapping around his ribs.

She picked up her head, suddenly looking at him, eyes wide. Her brow furrowed as she forced the words out, " What did they do to you?"

He shook his head, "No...I…I don't wanna' talk about it..." he looked down at her neck, back to her chin, and then eyes. He whispered, "Please."

Her expression softened, and she nodded. Her heart ached for him. She brought trembling fingers to his face, and looked down at his mouth as she came closer to him.

For a moment, he couldn't breathe.

They heard Gibbs suddenly coming up the steps from the basement, and she moved back a little from him.

The icy blue eyes passed over both of them, just for a moment before he locked his gaze on Tony.

"Just got a call from Vance. The Phantom reported one of it's MH-60's went down on a training flight, lost at sea with three men on it. Two officers and a civilian. CPO2 Brian O'Shea, a CP2 Michael Hendricks, and... the civilian, was John Stratton."

Tony, looked up at him, stunned. Then he looked away, trying to absorb it.

"Somethin' you wanna tell me?" Gibbs asked softly.

Tony looked at the floor, and shook his head. In his mind, he was throwing Stratton over the rail again...

He stood up, and slowly began to pace, as Ziva looked from him to Gibbs worriedly.

"Training accident..." Tony sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He was starting to limp again a little, Gibbs thought likely it was from the broken ribs hurting. It was likely time for more pain medication.

He stopped suddenly, looking at Gibbs, "I guess it's good he thinks I'm dead, along with Brian...but, it's wrong. O'Shea _deserves_ so much more than that..." he shook his head, eyes watering. "If it weren't for him..." it was barely a whisper. He seemed to sway again.

Gibbs put a hand on his elbow, "I think it's time for pain meds, then bed."

Tony nodded, feeling entirely drained.

"I am going to go, "Ziva said while she rose from the couch. "I will see you both tomorrow. Good night, Tony," she said, touching his arm lightly, and he worked up a wan smile for her.

"Gibbs."

"Nite' Ziva." Gibbs said as she smiled at him and left.

"Come on," Gibbs said gently, seeing that Tony was practically ready to fall down again.

He wanted to finish the discussion they were having earlier, but he could see Tony was in no condition for it.

He got the younger man to the guest room bed, medication down, and lights out. Tony was asleep before he even hit the pillow.

Gibbs knew he had to make Tony understand about the file, but also he knew Tony was right. He should have shown him the file... it's implications were so damned scary. He had wanted to try and find out how much Jarvis was entrenched with Latham, before figuring out what to do about it.

He went to sleep, uneasy, with Tony's recounting of the past few weeks, and the plan he was developing with Vance and Jarvis in his mind. Thinking about Jarvis…and Latham made his blood boil. Sleep was not going to happen if he kept the line of thinking up.

He took a shaky breath in the dark, and forced himself to close his eyes and relax.

Gibbs was suddenly awake and the clock read 04:47.

He sat up quickly, feeling something was wrong.

Quietly, he got out of bed, and worked his way downstairs, towards the guest room.

As he arrived at the doorway, he could see a little bit of grey light coming from the dawn outside. Tony was twitching a little in his sleep, face and neck covered in sweat. He was taking rapid, gasping breaths. The smallest of moans escaped him.

_Tony was hanging from his wrists again, naked. It was part of it, of their trying to break him. Stripping him of clothing took away a layer of his identity. Either that or Stratton got a sick thrill off it._

_He was only allowed to be in the scrubs for a while when they had to take him to different cabins, or on the "nice" days of dinner with Latham._

_Earlier, they had him tied to the chair, giving him shocks at Stratton's command until he almost blacked out._

_"__Tony, Tony, Tony," he noticed Stratton never called him "Agent DiNozzo"…another subtle way to break him down. "I know you want things to get easier between us. You just have to tell me when you know." Tony was confused by what he was saying._

_He felt the knife tip, dull and painful as Stratton pointed it right over his right shoulder blade. He knew what was coming, and tried to brace himself._

_The voices in his head were whispering furiously, and he was starting to see things again…he was determined to ride out the pain this time without giving Stratton the satisfaction of his screaming. But suddenly swords appeared in his vision, blade up, all around him in a tight circle. In this hallucination, he was caught in the middle of them, on a big rock in the middle of the sea, salty waves smashing against its sides. Off in the distance, a ship was slowly sailing away, leaving him there. It was his chance to escape and they were leaving him there. He felt the blade dragging down his back, and Stratton's almost gleeful hiss in his ear, "Who owns you?" He wanted to get away desperately, now trying to move the swords away, but they cut his hands, and blood ran down his arms. Though he didn't want to, had __**sworn**__ he was not going to, he finally let out a mournful wail, and gasped, sobbing as the knife blade tore the rest of the way down his back._

Suddenly Gibbs was above him, shaking him gently, calling his name. He was confused, and looked quickly at his hands for blood from the swords he had been desperate to move.

There was none.

He could feel the wetness on his face, and his heart was still thundering in his skull.

"Tony," Gibbs was sounding more anxious for him to respond.

He looked at him, blinking. "Boss…what…where am I?"

Gibbs stomach flipped over at the question. He sat now on the edge of the bed. With a hand sitting lightly on Tony's arm, he said, "My house, remember?"

Tony looked around for a moment, at the room, and then back to Gibbs.

"Yeah," he nodded, and then pushed himself up, wincing. "I just…dreams can confuse me. Anytime I've slept over the past few days, it's like…it's like…" he was unable to finish, trying to control his fear, and not start to cry in front of Gibbs.

"It's like you're back there." Gibbs said it quietly.

Tony nodded, looking down.

"You wanna' talk about it?"

Tony shook his head, looking back up at him.

"I have your six. If you need to, you tell me. Anything." With that he saw the defiance start to rise in the younger man's eyes.

"The file," he sighed. He had to do it. Break his own policy on apologies.

"I was gonna' tell you when I had the picture straight… when I knew for sure if Jarvis was involved. It was the wrong thing. I should have shown it to you. I was…wrong."

The shock on Tony's face told him the younger man knew he was sincere, and was in no way expecting Gibbs to say that.

"Maybe…" Gibbs swallowed, "this…wouldn't have happened to you, if I'd done that." The pain was there, in his voice.

Tony just stared at him, saying nothing for a moment.

Then he shook his head. "Boss…there's no telling what would have been. I don't blame you for this. I don't. I was the damned idiot who had the chip implanted. I just…I just need to know… I _need_ to trust you. We can't be a team with any more secrets…even ones with the right intentions behind them." Tony felt the hypocrisy of what he was saying.

Gibbs smiled, just a little sadly, "Okay."

"I…have to tell you something…" he looked away from his friend for a moment.

Gibbs saw Tony's shaking intensify.

"Tony, if it's about what they did…to you, I think it can w-"

"No, Gibbs…can't. It can't wait." He took a deep breath, and looked him in the eye. "Stratton…I…I didn't leave him…on the deck –" his voice had weakened considerably, his throat constricting with fear.

"You threw him over." Gibbs stated it plainly, with no recrimination.

Tony looked at him with widened eyes. "How did you-"

"It's what I would've done."

"But," it came out in an agonized whisper, as he looked away from Gibbs, "doesn't that make me almost as bad as him? It's not like returning fire, or defending yourself –"

"Yes. It is. Look at me, Tony." He waited until the green eyes were locked on him. "That bastard, killed people you care about, and he did…terrible things to you. The only natural reaction, the only sane reaction, would be to make sure he could never do them again. After that kind of torture…He tortured you. You were defending yourself."

Tony nodded, and licked his lips. He looked away again and took a shaky breath.

Gibbs said, "You need to get some more rest. A lot is going on today."

Tony snapped to attention. "The plan to get Latham?"

"Formulating. Almost there…just a few pieces to get into place."

"I want in."

Gibbs nodded. "You got it, DiNozzo."


	15. Chapter 15

They were in Vance's office.

Tony was quietly observing, while Jarvis, Vance, and Gibbs were going over the plan so far. He sat as far away from Jarvis as he could, barely looking at the man.

Some sleep, and medication had done well for him, though he was still slightly feverish and could have done without the nightmares. He at least was dressed in his own clothes and had a shave. Aside the healing cuts and still too pale complexion, he was carrying himself fairly well.

"Are you sure, you're up to this, Agent DiNozzo?" Jarvis asked, interrupting things.

"You're asking _now_ how I feel? How considerate of you, Mr. Secretary," Tony's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Let's stay on topic, shall we?" Vance steered it right back.

Jarvis turned back to him. "So, we've already contacted the CIA to make them aware of this situation, and someone is coming over later this morning to discuss coordinating our efforts. Mean time, Agent McGee looked into all of Sean Latham's financials, personal or other. He's spread out pretty wide. Shares in several companies. There are dozens of offshore accounts, and several LLC's, which would be the pick, if he were trying to hide or launder money. Most in the Caymans."

"He's like an onion." Tony said it blandly, looking at the table. "You peel all those layers back and he still stinks."

Gibbs gave him an amused glance.

Jarvis continued, "There are less accounts in Switzerland, probably because it has a strong KYC policy, and are more likely to cooperate with our inquiries due to the rise in world terrorism."

"We have to catch him in the act, and follow the trail of the payment to the actual account, and that should also give us some leads on the other chip transactions." Vance was pulling out a toothpick.

"We can appropriate the surveillance room on one of the other O.N.I. ships, right before the sale goes down," Jarvis said.

"So, our spy ship, that spies on spies, spying on another ship in it's own fleet?" Tony asked, to clarify. "And they won't contact The Phantom?"

"Not with a sealed order from the President, they won't," Jarvis said definitively. "And we won't give anyone a head's up. It would be right before the scheduled auction."

"That means we'd have to know exactly when it's going down, and have a buyer in place," Tony said thoughtfully.

"And…Latham has to show, for the end of the transaction, so we're waiting at the other end to nab the bastard. Otherwise, he may disappear," Gibbs said, almost to himself.

"Yes. Agreed. The biggest missing piece is our buyer. Someone with the clout, and with enough cash to pull of the transfer without blinking," Vance said.

"Can't be just a shill, Leon," Gibbs said softly. "Has to be from foreign soil, with reason to have the chip in the first place."

They were quiet for a moment.

"I think I have an idea, who could do it," Tony said with a little smile.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, as the other two men looked at him expectantly.

"Prince Omar Ibn Alwaan. My Dad's ol' buddy."

"Your father is friends with Ibn Alwaan?" Jarvis sounded shocked.

"Oh, they spend a lot of time around the tables at Monte Carlo. That guy loses millions in the casino, sometimes in one night. He makes Trump look like a little guppy."

"Why would he agree to do it?" Jarvis asked.

"He and my Dad go way back, and…the last time they were both in town, Dad gave him a little unsanctioned head's up on a situation with his son..." Tony tried to ignore Gibbs' scowl.

"Hmph," Vance made the sound and took the toothpick out of his mouth. "Say we could use Alwaan, and he agrees. No one likely goes directly to Latham. The buyer's contact has to be as authentic as the buyer."

"That's where I come in." A voice came from the door, which the receptionist had opened, based on Vance's instruction to bring the CIA representative directly to the meeting after they arrived.

It was Trent Kort.

"Ahhh," Tony's tone was disgusted. "I guess if we're fishing for Latham, we're gonna pull up some bottom feeders along the way."

They all stood up.

"A pleasure to see you again, _DiNozzo_." Malice dripped from his words. "Though, a bit of a surprise. I'd heard that you were rotting at the bottom of the Tyrrhenian Sea."

They all looked shocked, except Gibbs, of course.

"And pray tell, Kort, where did you hear that?" Vance asked with an undertone of anger.

Kort sighed and looked at them all with his one good eye. He pulled up a chair, taking his time to sit down.

"Please, have a seat gentlemen. We have a lot to discuss."

Begrudgingly they did.

Gibbs noticed Tony's jaw muscle tick, stressfully waiting to hear what the snake would say.

"The CIA became aware of one of the microchips coming into the possession of a certain party in the middle east. I was asked to ascertain the chain of hands the item passed through, to discover the source of the sale, and also recover the chip. I was in the process of…making contacts with the seller, and narrowing in on the chip, when I was rudely interrupted by Agent David's pest of a boyfriend."

"Alright, C.I. Ray," Tony said with sarcastic glee.

Kort's one eye glared at him. With they eye patch, Tony decided it was indeed, pretty creepy.

He continued, "You are aware, I am near retirement, so-"

"Lemme' guess," Gibbs said in a low growl, "You were trying to get in on the action."

"Now," Kort said, "let's not make it sound so…treasonous. _C.I. Ray_, as you call him, had been sent to "handle" me. So…in fact, he delivered a directive to me, from higher up, to cooperate and then retire, or, _be_ retired."

"Like you retired La Grenouille?" Tony asked in a low tone.

Kort ignored him.

"I am your buyer contact. Once the sale goes down and you have Latham in custody, the other buyers and their chips will be seized by CIA operatives."

"Well, Trent, guess we know you've already been in contact with Latham, since you're surprised by me **still breathing** and all. Why should we trust anything you say?" Tony stared at him with cold hatred.

The other men all looked interested in his response.

"Because, none of us have a choice."


	16. Chapter 16

_The voices were whispering in his mind again. He desperately wanted to understand them. But they came and went, like the waves rolling in and out on the shore he was standing on. _

_It was cold on the beach._

_It was dusk, and there was no one else there but him._

_He made a half turn, the sand stretched as far as his eye could see._

_Behind him were dunes that rose up to impossibly high cliffs, with grey and black birds that flew in and out of nests built within. He should hear the birds, shouldn't he? _

_But the whispers, voices, taunted him again._

_If he could only know what they were saying…_

_Looking back to the dark blue sea, he screamed, "What do you want from me?" _

_He brought his hands to his ears and sank to his knees on the sand, groaning,"I don't understand."_

_He took deep breaths for a moment, trying to calm down._

_Then something in the water caught his eye, floating a few hundred feet out._

_It was someone...in a life jacket, just floating, head listing to the side._

_His heart started racing. He looked around but there was no one to call for help._

_Tony took off, running full speed at the water, feeling how the cold wet sand where sea met shore pulled and sucked at his feet, slowing him down._

_He struggled to get past the surf, and finally threw himself into the dark, icy water, swimming as fast as he could._

_As he got closer, he could see, it was O'Shea._

_He spat out water as he swam, yelling for him._

_He finally reached the floating man, praying he was still alive...but...something seemed off about the thought…_

_He grabbed the life jacket, and pulled as he swam back to shore with his friend in tow._

_Struggling to breathe in enough air, he stumbled out of the surf, dragging the man onto the shore with him._

_Barely out of the water, he turned to check the man's pulse, and realized it was not O'Shea. _

_It was Gibbs._

_"Wha-, Gibbs...nonono..."_

_He felt for a pulse. Nothing. He shook the man desperately, starting to sob,_

_"Gibbs...Boss...please..."_

_But his skin was ice cold, the blue eyes open and dull, and as the water continued to roll in around him, he saw it had changed to a sea of dark red blood. For a brief instant, he saw Stratton's face reflected in the surface…_

Gibbs heard him screaming this time, desperately calling his name. He ran downstairs, with his gun out, since he wasn't certain what was happening.

Then he saw Tony, curled up over himself on the floor, by one end of the couch. He quickly put his gun down on the coffee table. He gently put his hand at the back of Tony's neck, squeezing it and calling his name to bring him out of the episode he was having.

Tony was gasping for breath as his eyes flew open wide as he sprang up on his knees to look at the older man.

"Tony, you're okay, it's a flashback, you're home at my house."

He looked at Gibbs for just a moment, before putting his hands to his face, brokenly choking out, "Oh God, Gibbs, I'm losing my mind." He was shaking.

Gibbs sat and without a word, pulled him to his chest, throwing his arms around him fiercely, saying, "You're okay, you're home, everything's okay."

He continued it softly, almost like a mantra, until he felt the shaking stop, and the younger man's breathing evened out.

Tony took a deep breath, pulling away from him. He swallowed and said, in a strange tone, " What if I'm really cracking up? What if...I'm never...normal again?" he looked at Gibbs with fear in his eyes.

"You will not crack up. You're a Hell of a lot stronger than that. And I've got your six, remember?"

Gibbs looked at him while he said the words, his gaze unwavering, and Tony believed him.

After a moment, he nodded, and Gibbs helped him get up on trembling legs to sit on the couch. He watched Gibbs as he took the gun to put away upstairs.

It was 08:00. What had he been doing before the…flashback…or whatever it was, happened? He couldn't remember. Maybe going to the kitchen for a drink?

Gibbs returned.

"You wanna' talk about it?'

He shook his head.

"Your Dad's gonna' be here in the morning."

Tony looked up at him, "Good."

Gibbs sat down next to Tony on the couch.

After a while, Gibbs broke the silence. "They'll fade, Tony. The…flashbacks, the nightmares…they'll fade out over time. This…just happened to you."

Tony looked down and sighed.

"I hope you're right."

His father had been in Japan, working on some business deal with the owner of an industrial ink company when they found him.

They didn't tell him anything about why they needed him back in DC., other than they needed his help in a diplomatic matter at NCIS.

It sounded interesting enough to him, though incredibly inconvenient. He tried to call Tony, but found the number was out of order. It was probably just because Tony had changed service, since last they spoke.

He was waiting in the conference room, when Gibbs and Tony came in.

"Hello Junior!" he stood up, smiling. When he got a better look at Tony, his smile wavered. He saw that his son looked a little too thin, and saw the cuts, now with little bits of scabs still clinging to them, around his face and neck.

"Dad," Tony smiled, and was surprised when Senior actually hugged him instead of just shaking his hand.

Senior had a strange feeling his son had been in some trouble recently, or sick...

"How are you, Junior, you look a little...under the weather?"

"I'm okay, Dad, let's sit down."

"I'm dying to know why I'm here. I was told you need my help with something...I hope it's important because I was in the middle of a pretty big deal."

"Protecting the country is a pretty big deal, " Gibbs quietly, getting Senior's attention.

He looked from Gibbs to Tony, and saw how serious they were.

"What do you need?"

"Dad, there's a...situation, we have with some technology that was stolen from the Navy. It's going up for auction in about ten days...we need you to ask Prince Al to be our buyer."

He stared at Tony for a moment, and then at Gibbs and sighed. "No. I'm sorry. I can't help you."

"Mr. DiNozzo, we-" Gibbs began.

"I said no!" Senior growled it angrily. "Prince Al is an old friend, and I am not going to drag him into something like this. I can't believe you would ask me to do this! " He shifted his sullen gaze to his son.

Suddenly, Gibbs slammed his fist onto the table. " _You_ don't understand what's at stake here!"

"What's at stake is a relationship I've spent the last twenty years developing. Listen to me, because I won't tell you again. I'm. Not. Doing. It."

Gibbs was turning color.

"Boss," Tony put his hand on Gibbs' arm, and asked, "Can you give us a minute?"

Gibbs looked at him, and nodded, leaving the room immediately and in silence.

As the door closed, his father leaned forward and said, more calmly, "Junior, what the Hell is going on here?"

Tony licked his lips and looked down at the table, trying to find the right words to tell his father how important this was, and knew he had to tell him the truth, though it was going to upset him.

He looked up into his father's eyes.

"Dad, the man who...stole the technology we're talking about...he...kidnapped me, and held me captive for a few weeks..." he took a shaky breath in. He had to look down, when he saw Senior's expression as he began to register the words.

"He and his friend...they hurt me, pretty bad, Dad." He swallowed compulsively, and couldn't understand why his eyes were getting misty.

He looked up at his father, whose mouth hung open slightly, and saw a mix of pain and fury in his eyes.

"This man…Sean Latham…he thinks I'm dead. When he finds out differently, he's gonna' try to kill me. And besides that, he's..." Tony was trying to stay calm, thinking of E.J. and O'Shea, and took another shaky breath. "We need to stop him, because he's a threat to our country, but he's a threat to me, too. And I know it's a big thing we're asking you to do...but _please_, Dad. I need you to do this."

Senior seemed at a loss for a moment. He leaned forward, placing his hand on Tony's arm.

His eyes were glassy, as he stared at his son, and he started to force out the words," Tony, what did they do.."

Tony just looked down, squeezing his eyes shut, and shook his head slightly.

"I...I don't want you to think about that," he said quietly, and looked up at him, "Just say you'll do it."

Some time later, Tony walked out of the conference room, looking pale and shaken.

"You alright?" Gibbs asked worriedly.

"Yeah, um...go on in. Tell him what we need him to do. I'm just gonna' go clear my head for a bit."

Gibbs stared at him.

"Inside the building of course, Boss."

He walked into Abby's lab, with a Caf-Pow for no reason other than it was the excuse to come see her.

She was punching some keys at her computer, swaying ever so slightly to the music she had pumping through the room.

Tony put the drink in front of her, and she turned quickly, expecting to see Gibbs.

When she saw it was Tony, her eyes widened and she smiled madly, "Tony !" And she threw herself at him, hugging him fiercely.

It actually jarred his injuries a little, causing him pain, but he didn't care. It was just so good to get the Abby love.

She pulled back and looked at him suddenly, "Did Gibbs send you down? Do you need something? I didn't think we had a case. OH..I should give you some …cookies or something…"She started rummaging around for them, wanting Tony to eat to get his weight back on. "I had these super duper chocolate chip cookies, and I think you'd love them. I think we need to put a little meat on your bones…uh…" she looked at him, "but I'm not saying you look bad or anything. You know you always look good to me, especially when you wear your jeans with that turtleneck sweater…" she caught herself again.

"Abs…" Tony put an arm out to stop her from her nervous meanderings around the room. "I…just wanted to see you." He said it softly, and smiled a little.

She smiled back then, blinking at him, a little embarrassed. And then came back to put her arms around him again.

They stood like that for a while, in the wonderfully comforting embrace.

He wondered how she was able to be quiet for so long.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **short, but sweet.

Gibbs sat, just staring at Senior for a while.

He truly disliked the man. He was never around when Tony needed him. And this time, they only had to drag him to D.C. from Japan.

He'd tried, for Tony's sake, to convince him to take more of an interest in his son. But, not much had changed.

"I'm only doing this for Junior." He said it almost rebelliously.

"About time you did something for him," Gibbs said, trying to restrain his anger.

"Oh? And what have _you_ done for him _Special Agent_ Gibbs? Sounds like he barely escaped being murdered by this Latham character." Senior rolled his eyes in his head. "I told him…he never should have become a cop, and then this job…"

"Your son, is a very brave and good man, with more smarts than you'll ever have. You should be proud of who he is. He is helping to protect the country, including…" Gibbs wanted to say something pretty bad, but stopped at, "_people_…like you."

"And who's protecting him, Gibbs? After this is over, I'm talking some sense into him. He should be doing something else with his life…"

"He belongs with his family," Gibbs said softly now.

Senior was so angry, he looked at Gibbs with fury in his eyes, but decided to abandon the conversation before he ended up walking out.

"Let's just talk about what you need me to tell Prince Al, so I can be done with you."

"You just give him the basics on what we've told you, and have him call Director Vance. We'll handle the rest."

Tony rounded the corner on his way back to the bullpen and walked straight into Trent Kort.

Kort stepped right into his personal space.

"Heard you screamed quite a bit," he said with contained malice, "when Stratton was cutting you up like a ham."

Tony grabbed him by the shirt, throwing him back into the wall, feeling the itch to choke the life out of him.

"How long did you know I was there?" he ground out while Kort sputtered.

"Long enough...I anticipate …your mind is rather like a scrambled egg, _DiNozzo_." He smiled, pure evil. "I… should just tell Latham, that you're alive. He…would be doing me a favor killing you."

Tony drew his fist back, about to punch Kort in his one good eye.

Someone caught it.

"Easy, Tony," Gibbs said smoothly, pulling Tony off Kort. "Let's keep our _eye_," he said looking over at Kort, "on the ball."

Tony looked at Gibbs, and suddenly burst out in a fit of laughter, while Kort glared at them both…as best he could, and slunk away down the hall.

"What was that about?" Gibbs asked him.

Tony shook his head, "Nothing…he…ah may have known I was there on the ship for a while…"

Gibbs went silent, blue eyes slightly widened. Then he took a shaky breath, staring off in the direction Kort went. His hands were balled into fists at his sides.

"I should've let you punch out that eye," he said spat out bitterly. "Slimy, bastard…"

Tony saw his father angrily striding towards the elevator from the other side of the bullpen. McGee and Ziva looked at each other, perplexed as Senior uncharacteristically avoided their glances as he went past.

He knew Senior was upset. But there was little he could do about that now. Catching Latham was imperative, and if it meant less comps in Monte Carlo for his father, oh well. He was never there for Tony when he was a kid, so Tony felt his father owed him at least this.

He wondered what had transpired between Gibbs and his father. Whatever it was certainly put Senior over the edge. He hadn't seen that expression on him since the first time he told Senior he wanted to be a cop.

"I'm afraid to ask-"

"It's fine, Tony. He already made the call. Ibn Alwaan is on board. Do you wanna' go catch him before he leaves?"

Tony looked at Gibbs and sighed.

"No. I think I've had enough drama for one day."


	18. Chapter 18

The waiting was killing him…and the worry of Kort double-crossing them.

But The CIA had made things crystal clear to Kort – he would be taking a dirt nap for his retirement if he screwed this up. They had to hope it was enough. They knew if Latham caught wind of the sting, he would disappear with some of the blood money he's stashed in the Caymans.

Two days after Tony's father had angrily stormed out of the office, the news was relayed that Kort was successful in interesting Latham about his new potential buyer, Prince Omar Ibn Alwaan.

According to Kort's report, Latham took the bait, salivating at the vast resources Ibn Alwaan had. When Latham checked into the Prince, he found the well of money was deep enough to surprise even Kort himself.

Now they just had to wait for the auction, and put everything else into action based on the terms they were hoping Ibn Alwaan could negotiate.

There were five days left to go.

Tony was restless. Confined to the Yard or Gibbs' house. He was starting to go stir crazy. And his stitches were itching him madly.

He had no choice but to go down and ask Ducky to take some out, but dreaded the focus it would bring to his ordeal. As it was, he was still suffering nightmares, and random flashbacks that always included the damned whispering voices.

"Why hello, Tony. So nice to see you!" Ducky greeted him as he entered the suite. Ah, everything alright?" The M.E. was glad to see him, though he hadn't expected him.

"I'm okay, Ducky...I just need...some of the stitches out. They're driving me crazy..." he said plainly.

Ducky stared at him for a bit. "Yes, I would imagine you are quite uncomfortable. Alright. Sit down. Give me a moment to gather the proper supplies."

As he moved around the room, he casually said, "How is your cough? And any fever?"

"I'm fine."

Ducky frowned behind Tony. "Yes…I thought you'd say that. Well, I will take your temperature just in case then."

"Ducky, I-"

He didn't finish as Ducky swiped the thermometer across his head.

"Excellent. Normal."

"I'm glad something is," Tony said, a little sadly.

Ducky came to stand in front of him. Looking into the tired green eyes, he carefully asked, "Are you experiencing some effects of the hallucinogens?"

Tony frowned and looked down. He nodded.

Ducky gave him a sympathetic glance, and turned, saying, "If you would, this will be easier if you removed some clothing and lie down on the table. I'll get a sheet so it's a little less frigid on your skin. Did you take the percoset this morning? I think you'll need to lie on your side because of the fractures in your ribs."

"I took it," Tony said, almost like a confession. He hated taking painkillers, but the ribs were still too hard to deal with otherwise.

Within a few minutes, Tony was laying on his good side, facing the wall on one of the autopsy tables, his head resting on his arm. Ducky covered him with another sheet, and just left visible areas he needed to work on. He sat behind the younger man, and squeezed antibacterial solution onto a cotton pad to prepare the first of the many cuts.

Tony shivered at the contact of the cold liquid on his skin.

Ducky knew it would be easier for Tony to talk to him, while he didn't have to look him in the eye. The younger man was brave, by all accounts, but struggled with emotions like fear and anger. He'd known him long enough to know when to be a little of a trickster, if necessary.

"So," he said as he pulled at one of the stitches, "What kind of flashbacks are they?"

"Uh, what do you mean?" Tony asked, and then winced as another stitch came out. He was trying not to let himself become more nauseous than when he came in. But the feeling of someone touching his back again…made his skin crawl.

"Well," Ducky said, maintaining the casual air, "flashbacks can be visual, auditory, olfactory…they can manifest differently or even overlap…"

Tony sighed shakily.

"I'd say… visual, and auditory."

Ducky was silent, waiting him out a little while he worked.

"It's different every time…but," he swallowed, "Stratton is always in there somewhere…and the damned whispering…"

""Whispering? Very curious."

"Yeah…and, it's like, I can't understand what it is they're saying. It really drives me- ah!" he hissed in pain as Ducky pulled harder to get one particular stitch out. His heart was starting to thump faster in his chest.

"I am sorry, Tony. If you need me to stop for a bit, let me know, but most of these really need to come out. The longer ones…should stay in for a while. They were a bit deeper."

Tony just nodded, trying to control the panic that was rising in him.

Ducky continued, "And how are you sleeping?"

He noticed Tony was quiet for a while.

"Tony?"

"Well, if you don't count that I wake Gibbs up almost every night with my yelling…just fine."

"I'm sure he is more than willing to help you with just about anything, Tony." His tone was gentle, as he pulled at another, more stubborn stitch, he knew had to hurt.

"I…I'm really lucky." Tony said it, so softly, Ducky strained to hear it. "I dunno what I'd do without Gibbs, and you. And the team…"

It brought water to Ducky's eyes.

Another pull at his back almost had him jump, but he knew Ducky was just trying to help and take care of him.

So he made himself be still, and though memories of Stratton causing him excruciating pain tickled at his mind, he willed them not to come.

"It must have been awful, on that ship," Ducky said sadly. "We are very lucky you came back alive, Tony. You mean a lot, to all of us. I just…can't imagine what it was like for you…"

Tony tried to hold them back, but tears fell from the corners of his eyes, onto his arm, and then landing on the table.

"It was…lonely…" he almost whispered it.

Ducky stopped what he was doing for just a moment, and put his fingers on Tony's shoulder, "You're back now, and we won't ever let something like this happen to you again."

Tony nodded again, and prayed that was true.


	19. Chapter 19

Gibbs did a double take as he passed Tony's desk.

The agent was sleeping with his head down on his folded arms. He looked pale.

Gibbs drifted over in front of Ziva.

"Anything happen that I should know about?" he motioned behind him to Tony.

She looked up form behind her desk, and sighed. "I know he was down to see Ducky before. But I do not know what it was about. He just came up looking very tired and then seemed to honk out on his desk."

"Konk. The term is "konk out", Ziva. Only cars honk," McGee said as he too approached her desk, glancing worriedly at his SFA.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, konk then. But I don't know what a "konk" is."

"Boss?"

"Yeah, McGee?" Gibbs turned a little to face him.

"Tony…" he looked over again at his friend. "Is he…is he alright? I mean, who could be alright after what happened to him, but…will he? Will he be okay?"

Gibbs knew McGee had been very affected by what happened to Tony, and was deeply concerned about him, as they all were.

"He will be, once we get Latham."

"And Stratton." McGee said, and though Gibbs knew the evil bastard was gone, he just nodded his head. It wasn't his secret to tell.

"I want to ask Abby to help us dispose of the SecNav," Ziva said, quite reasonably, as if she were talking about drinking tea. McGee's mouth dropped open. She continued. "So there is no trace. I only need thirty seconds alone with hi-"

"Agent David," Gibbs said gently, with a little smile, "NCIS is not Mossad."

"Well, maybe I should quit. For a week, or two. And come back after."

Gibbs let out a little snort, but then said more seriously, "At this point, Jarvis is the least of anyone's troubles. Kort and Latham…they are the focus, you understand that? Both of you?" He looked back and forth between Ziva and McGee, who both nodded, but Ziva with a sour look.

They were startled a little by Tony's hand jerking on his desk in his sleep, knocking into his keyboard.

He suddenly jumped a little and picked up his head, looking dazed.

"Silver…something…"he said sleepily…and then sat up, looking at his desk.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked, walking to stand in front of his desk as the others looked on.

Tony looked up at him, confused. "Uh…what?"

"I said, are you okay?"

He scratched the side of his head for a moment. "Yeah, Boss…I just…was dreaming…" Tony looked up at him. He saw Gibbs was worried.

"M'fine, Boss. Really."

"You just said something…when you woke up."

Tony blinked a few times, then looked down again. "Did I?"

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I dunno…I think I heard…" Ziva and McGee were hanging on his words, and he became self-conscious. "Never mind. I can't remember already."

"You not feeling well? Maybe we should get you back home."

"No…I,…took extra pain medicine because … Ducky had to take out some of my stitches…" He didn't look at any of them as he said it.

_That explains it_, Gibbs thought.

"I can give him a ride, Boss, if you have things you still have to do here," McGee offered.

"Nah. We got nothin' right now. We're off rotation for new cases until Latham's sting goes down." He smiled at them, "Time to go home. Tomorrow, going through cold cases. Everyone."

They groaned.

Tony was quiet again in the car on the way home.

"Somethin' on your mind, Tony?"

He shook his head.

Gibbs knew something was bothering him, but he would wait and try to talk to him again after dinner.

They got in, and Gibbs threw together a basic steak dinner.

When he threw the plates down on the table, Tony eyed the baked potato, which was next to the meat, strangely.

Gibbs started eating. After a minute, he looked at Tony, who was sighing, and still eyeing the plate.

Tony hadn't given them all that detail from the interrogation room, on the evil speaking potato from Latham's dinners.

"Somethin' wrong with the food, Dinozzo?"

"Ah, no, Boss. It looks great." Tony picked up the silverware on the table, cutting into his steak, and took a bite.

Unfortunately, his mind was on Latham's state room. And the things that always lead up to him being in that chair at the dinner table.

Gibbs was watching his eyes. He knew Tony was off somewhere, in his mind, replaying...something.

Tony tried another bite, but, knew if he ate much more...it was going to end up in the toilet.

He sat back, and said, " Sorry Boss...I just...I'm not very hungry..."

Gibbs shrugged. "S'okay. You can have it later if you want it."

Tony, nodded, and patiently sat while Gibbs finished, not wanting to be rude. But the whole time, he wanted to bolt from the table, and get away from the plate of food.

As Gibbs got up to take his plate in, Tony got up, following him, muttering, "Nothin' to say now, huh, you bastard," at the potato.

Maybe fries would work better. The evil potato in another form… less recognizable.

After they were done cleaning up, Tony kept Gibbs company, in the basement while he worked on the boat.

Gibbs poured a shot of bourbon for them both, and continued to sand, while Tony watched him, silently sitting on the steps.

He was covertly hoping the bit of alcohol with Tony's painkillers would affect him… and his tongue. So he could get things off his chest.

His patience panned out somewhat after the second shot.

"The dinners with Latham...sometimes...they went a little badly..."

Gibbs looked up at him.

"Well, most of it...was pretty bad, actually," he snorted to himself.

"But...some things...get fuzzy..., he shook his head slightly,"disjointed…"

Gibbs shifted a little on his feet, and said, "That's to be expected, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Tony said pulling himself up and walking down the stairs. " But, there was something...I feel like...I dunno. Something I should understand...about the voices..."

He stood by the boat, running a hand over some of the wood, while Gibbs watched him.

"I still hear them sometimes..." he said it almost absently, eyes drifting over the grain of the plank as he rubbed it with his finger.

He swallowed, "And in my dreams...it's almost like, I can hear what they're saying...I get so close..."

He sighed again. He suddenly felt exhausted, resting his head against the boat.

After a while, he felt Gibbs put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, let's call it a day. There'll be plenty of time to think about it when you're not asleep on your feet."

Tony nodded, and followed him upstairs.

_He was on the deck of the Phantom._

_It was night. _

_He was looking out at the sea, as the cruiser cut cleanly through the waves. _

_He looked around ...but he was completely alone. Except..._

_A subtle sound was surrounding him…the voices starting to whisper once again, their maddening, overlapping murmur making him instantly angry and fearful._

_He clenched his fists._

_Just then, he saw a boy running towards him on the flight deck._

_He looked to be only about seven or eight years old._

_Gibbs was running behind him._

_Tony didn't understand what was happening until he saw the grotesquely large bird flying, it's talons reaching for the boy. It was right over them._

_The bird was the size of a rhinocerous._

_What kind of bird was this ?_

_Gibbs had his gun out and was trying to shoot it, but he was too far away, and the boy tripped._

_Tony took off in their direction._

_It was too late._

_The grey and white monster was tearing and pulling flesh off the boy, as his scream was abruptly cut off by the vicious beak ending his life._

_Gibbs was yelling hoarsely at it. His shots did nothing to stop it._

_As he caught up to it, he launched himself at it, while Tony screamed for him to stop._

_It was too late for the boy._

_And now it furiously turned to Gibbs, striking at him with its sharp claws, tearing at his flesh._

_Gibbs fell back, covered in blood, a wound to his neck bleeding out in large, pumping spurts._

"_NO!" Tony shrieked._

_The bird turned back to continue eating the dead child._

_Tony held Gibbs in his arms, crying, while the blood soaked through his clothing._

_He tried to compress the neck wound, but it was too deep, and he saw his friend's eyes close._

"_Gibbs!" he tapped the man's cheek, smearing some blood on his face._

_Gibbs slipped away quickly, dying in his arms while he sobbed._

_He was suddenly knocked down to the ground, as the bird now started to strike at him with its beak._

_As the head came closer, and its talon shredded his chest, he saw a reflection in it's eye._

_It was Stratton, smiling._

Gibbs knew he should've expected a bad one after the way Tony had seemed all day, but he didn't know it would be this bad.

When the agonized screaming came from downstairs he bolted, almost falling down half of them, before he got to Tony.

He was on his side, completely drenched in sweat, and Gibbs quickly leaned down to shake him.

It took a moment longer, than usual, to wake him.

Tony's eyes opened, showing the pure terror and confusion in them, and it ripped Gibbs apart inside.

"Tony, it's a nightmare. Just a dream…" He tried to soothe, but he saw the look on the younger man's face, pinched and wincing.

He grabbed the small wastebasket from the side of the end table as Tony leaned over and vomited into it.

Gibbs got up, and got a washcloth and glass of water, hearing Tony gagging a few more times before it stopped.

As Tony leaned back against the maple wood headboard of the bed, dazed, Gibbs passed the cloth over his face and put the water on the nightstand.

But Tony just shivered, and seemed to be somewhere else, not looking at Gibbs or saying anything.

Gibbs was getting nervous.

"Tony."

Nothing.

"Tony," he said more loudly.

Gibbs picked up his hand and stroked Tony's forehead with it.

"Come on, DiNozzo," he begged now.

Finally, just when Gibbs was about to get up and call Ducky, his eyes shifted up to Gibbs'.

"You with me?"

Tony nodded slightly, but still said nothing.

Gibbs handed him the water, and Tony took it, almost mechanically.

"Drink it," Gibbs ordered gently.

Tony did that.

Gibbs took the glass when he was done, and placed it on the nightstand again.

He took a deep breath. "You're scarin' the Hell outta' me here."

Tony swallowed, and said in a barely audible voice, "M'sorry, Boss."

"No apologies."

Tony smiled, just a little and looked at him.

"After we get Latham," Gibbs began softly, "I…think we should get Doc Cranston to help out with this."

Tony looked down, and nodded again.

"But…" Gibbs continued, "I think you need to take Latham down with us…it's important for you…you have to see it through."

"I…" Tony cleared his throat to make sound come out of it. "I'm glad you understand that. Because, the SecNav didn't seem to think I should be in on it."

Gibbs looked at him and smiled. "Wouldn't be the first time he got it wrong."

"Thanks, Boss," he looked at him, with deep gratitude coming from the green eyes.

"I told you, DiNozzo, I've got your six. Always."

Tony nodded, unable to speak again for the lump in his throat.


	20. Chapter 20

The day of the auction finally came.

Jarvis had gone, with McGee, out to The Shadow, on the watcher fleet.

She was in the Atlantic, just off Spain, and they notified The Shadow by order of the President to shut down outgoing communications before they even landed their chopper on her deck.

McGee watched as Jarvis delivered the sealed order to the ship's Captain. They were quickly ushered into the surveillance suite.

It was a wonderland of technology, especially to McGee. The communications and surveillance crews were quickly informed of their duty to keep what they heard and saw confidential, based on the President's orders.

Then they set up surveillance systems, targeting their sister ship, The Phantom.

All of it was being fed into MTAC. They made sure McGee was there, in case NCIS needed someone to back up their technology from the other end.

But the picture came in clear.

Vance, Gibbs, Tony, and Ziva were all in MTAC, anxiously waiting for the Auction transmissions to begin.

It was 22:55 hours, and it was scheduled to begin at 23:00.

McGee appeared onscreen, wearing a headset, and adjusted it.

"Hi Boss ! How's the picture?"

"Clear as a bell, McGee."

"Secretary Jarvis is still talking with the Captain, but, we're all set here."

"Good, McGee."

"McGee we will record all of this at MTAC, but as soon as they give out the account number I want you to start your traces from there."

"Yes, Director. Ah, they set me up with my own station, with a really, really, sweet top level processing-"

"Don't get comfortable, McGee, you're not staying."

"Ah, yes, I know, Boss..."

McGee seemed to look away for a moment, nodding, and looking back to the screen.

"Okay, when it starts, you should end up with all the transmissions simultaneously."

In the dark of MTAC, Gibbs could see Tony's posture, the tension in it, as well as Ziva's eyes, gazing at the screen with deadly focus.

He hoped it all went as they planned.

McGee announced, "Clearing the screen now in five, four, three, two, one."

Their screen went dark, and there was a hush in the room. Less than a minute later, one area of the large screen lit, and Latham appeared in it. There was no sound yet, and he appeared to be preparing his headset.

Tony shuddered in his seat. Only Ziva knew, sitting next to him. She reached over without turning her head and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Tony expelled a shaky breath. He had to keep it together.

Gibbs and Vance were glued to the screen.

In succession, five more windows opened up on the screen.

They were filled with four different men and one woman. One of the men was Prince Omar Ibn Alwaan.

Finally, Latham's voice came over the com.

"Welcome to the auction. There are five of you, but to keep your identities confidential, you cannot see each other and have been assigned numbers, and make your bid using only the number of your identity. The terms of payment are half up front, wired to the account the winner will be provided with. Then half when we deliver the item. Who would like to begin?"

They watched.

The woman was Russian, three of the men, including Prince Ibn Alwaan were middle eastern, and the last man was Chinese. All their pictures were already being scanned for identification. Two were terrorists, the other two bought and sold government secrets and technology for profit.

The bidding started at thirty million.

They watched, tensely, as it started off slowly, and then went higher and higher. First, the one of the middle eastern men bowed out, disappearing off the screen.

At fifty million, the Russian bowed out.

At seventy million, the Chinese man bowed out.

And then it was between Prince Alwaan, and the other middle eastern man.

The were neck and neck, until at eighty seven million, Prince Ibn Alwaan was the winner.

When Latham called it, he and Alwaan were the only ones left onscreen.

Now they had to count on the Prince to set the rest of the trap.

"It appears you are now the owner of this top level technology," Latham declared, holding up the microchip, between the ends of a flathead tweezer. "Mr. Ibn Alwaan, your first payment needs to be transferred now to the following account."

Latham gave him a number for a Cayman account.

And then the Prince spoke, his voice rich and soft, as Tony remembered it.

"Mr. Latham, though Mr. Kort highly endorses you, I hope you understand that I need to check the authenticity of this item, therefore I require a personal delivery, at a...test site."

Latham raised his eyebrows for a moment and pursed his lips.

"A test site? What do you suggest?"

"Kuwait. A location just outside Camp Patriot. There is a munitions storage facility, which is only accessible with proper clearance. I will have my men clear the guard detail outside, so we can run the test unencumbered. I wish to see the microchip access the facility, and also record who has come and gone from it. If it downloads correctly, and is indeed what you say it is, then you will get the rest of your money. I hope it will also work on higher level access situations, but I do not want to risk exposure like that simply for the test."

Latham tilted his head, "I don't usually make the deliveries myself, Mr. Ibn Alwaan, but I assure you, this is an authentic piece of technology."

"Mr. Latham, I am a businessman. And there are ways we do things in my culture, and as an honorable businessman I always conduct my business, in person. I will be there, with four men and one computer technician."

Latham was silent.

They all held their breath.

"Of course," the Prince said casually, "since this is not your usual policy, I am willing to compensate you for the added service."

That got Latham's attention.

"Mr. Kort has a personal investment in finding me solid buyers, and since you came highly recommended by him, I may be willing to negotiate the added fee."

The Prince waited.

"One hundred million, total."

The Prince smiled, and laughed a bit at Latham, saying, "Alright, Mr. Latham. I can easily afford the...upcharge. It will be included with the second transfer."

"Agreed," Latham said. "When are we setting the meeting for?"

"Two days from now. I will give you the coordinates. I assume you have the clearance to be there."

"Of course," Latham said.

After the Prince gave Latham the rest of the details, the Prince's screen cut out, and then Latham's, leaving MTAC dark.

Gibbs let out the breath he was holding, and finally turned to look at Vance, who said, "Looks like the big fish is heading into the net."

"Let's hope so," Gibbs said, looking at Ziva who was now talking in low soothing tones to a pale and shaken DiNozzo.

Kort was with Latham in the chopper. They had two men, plus the pilot.

As they drifted over the beige colored landscape, they approached the Camp Patriot munitions warehouse, on the south coast of Kuwait.

There was a tall fence, with barbed wire around the whole perimeter, and five men, uniformed guards, lying dead in pools of their own blood, by the gate and by the entrance of the building.

Prince Omar Ibn Alwaan stood by one of the two black HumVees parked outside, his men holding large guns that had obviously taken out the guards. One of his men had a bandage around his arm, a bit of blood soaking through it.

The chopper landed, blowing dust and dirt everywhere before the blades slowed and came to a stop.

Latham got out, Kort and his men following him. The pilot stayed in the chopper.

The Prince smiled as he shook Latham's hand, and they both walked past the dead guards, towards the entrance of the warehouse.

They approached the data cube scanner outside the entrance of the facility.

Latham smiled, and took out the chip, passing it over the scanner.

As the doors opened, the smile fell from his face, and turned to a rage filled scowl.

It was Gibbs, holding his gun up with both hands, glaring at him.

"Sean Latham, you are under arrest for treason against the United States of America, and for the murder of Special Agent E.J. Barett. You are also under arrest for the kidnapping of Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

Latham raised his hands, as the Prince quickly returned to his guards.

Latham's men saw him raise his arms, and not knowing who was in the warehouse, raised their guns, but quickly lowered them when the " dead" guards stood up, training their weapons on them.

The two knew they were outnumbered, and dropped their weapons to the ground.

Latham smiled bitterly, and said, "You'd better have some proof, if you're going make any of that stick, _Agent Gibbs_. And, last I heard, both Agents Barrett and DiNozzo were still missing."

"What's that, Latham?" Tony stepped out from behind Gibbs, taking Latham's gun from the holster under his jacket, as he sputtered, wide-eyed, obviously shocked to see Tony alive.

" You...you're _dead_." Outrage burned in his eyes.

Tony laughed at him, though inside he was still fearful of the man for what he and Stratton had done to him.

"Sorry to _disappoint_ you. But still very much alive."

Ziva also appeared now, running out towards the other men.

In the distance, the chopper took off with Kort in it.

"Ah, damn," Gibbs muttered angrily at Kort's slipping away.

And as Gibbs was getting cuffs out for Latham, who was red with rage, Secretary Jarvis also appeared from out of the warehouse.

"Mr. Secretary, " Latham said with disgust.

Jarvis looked at him, with that same beady-eyed scrutiny Tony had experienced himself. Only, this seemed worse. The SecNav's anger was flashing in his eyes.

"Did you really think you could get away with it, Sean?"

"Who says I still won't, you stupid bastard," Latham spat. "And you helped me every step of the way, Clay."

Jarvis sighed. "I've made a lot of mistakes, and the worst one was trusting you."

"Oh _please_, Clay, you didn't _want_ to know the truth! You're living in your own world."

Jarvis shook his head sadly. "I'm not sure what happened to you Sean, but it's a good thing Sharon didn't live to see this, because she wouldn't have been able to stomach the disappointment you've become."

Gibbs was watching the exchange while Tony stood on the side of them.

They saw Latham's face go ugly, and then a strange glint appeared in his eyes.

Several things happened at once.

Ziva was shouting from outside, as two SUV's were barreling down the road towards the warehouse. Gibbs glanced outside for a moment, knowing it was more of Latham's men. The bastard had a backup plan.

Latham, with his hands still up, took a step closer to Jarvis.

"You're still an arrogant fool, Clay, and that's how you'll die."

Latham looked at Jarvis for a moment, smiling maliciously.

Gibbs heard Latham say the words, "Silver seabird."

Gibbs yelled, _**"Tony STOP!"**_, as he saw his agent raise Latham's gun to Secretary Jarvis' temple.


	21. Chapter 21

(flashback)

Stratton's face loomed over him.

He'd been taunting Tony, with threats, and the knife he so often used on him.

"Tony, don't you want to make me stop hurting you? You can, you know. You want to kill me, don't you? Right now."

Stratton casually stood up straighter, looking down at him. "I don't blame you."

He said softly," I know I'd like to kill you. Maybe later...I'll slip, and cut you too deeply with the knife. You'd just bleed out. I'll tell Latham it was an accident. And then I'll dump you overboard, like Barrett."

"Screw...you..." Tony breathed out.

Stratton said smugly, "I think you're the one who's screwed here."

Stratton flipped the switch on the small generator.

Pain coursed through Tony like a fire through all his nerves. His twitching limbs fought the confines of the chair. He gasped and struggled to breathe through it, but it was hard not to cry out.

It stopped for only a moment.

Then he screamed, feeling the burning, slicing agony as Stratton passed the second wave of electricity through the wires taped to his body.

Sweat ran down his skin in rivulets, making the current sail through him with more ease. He was naked, as he usually was for the torture sessions.

And then it stopped, leaving him nearly unconscious.

Stratton turned down the volume on the hidden speaker that repeated the whispered activation phrase, and dimmed the lit picture set on the wall in front of the chair.

Originally, other people had been in the room with Stratton, when he was beating Tony, before they caught E.J., and before he started the reprogramming. Now, during the hellish sessions, he rarely ever saw anyone's face except for Stratton's or the images of Jarvis they put in the background.

They only came in to move him, or dress and undress him as per Stratton's needs.

Tony barely responded to Stratton coming near him again.

He moaned softly.

"It's time for a little check," Stratton said, releasing him from the chair.

He started to fall forward, but Stratton pushed him up, his head dropping back over the chair.

Some moments later, Tony began to come to.

In his drug-induced haze, he saw someone standing next to him in the room.

He painfully moved his body to stand, stumbling away from the figure.

There was a gun, sitting, just within reach on the floor and he almost fell as he leaned down, picking it up instinctively and pulling the safety off to protect himself.

The man looked familiar...he had a medium build and glasses...sandy hair.

"Who..." Tony's voice came out as a rasp,"who are you?"

"No one you know," the young man replied, almost spitting out the word," traitor."

Tony was confused. He held the gun at his side with both hands, unsure of what he was doing.

Suddenly the hatch opened. Latham stepped in.

Tony brought the gun up, aiming it at him.

Latham raised his arms, smiling,"Easy, Tony. I'm not the one who did this to you."

Tony was having trouble focusing. They all had halos around them...things were distorted. He hurt everywhere.

He noticed the walls were moving...

"You know who brought you into this...it's his fault. He hurt you. He is going to hurt you again."

Tony shook his head, trembling, "No."

Latham used the words.

"Silver seabird," and he watched with sick joy, as Tony gasped and raised the weapon high and pointed it at the other man, the one who looked like Clayton Jarvis.

In his mind, the two faces, of Stratton and Jarvis, had suddenly become connected.

"He's coming with the knife...again. He's going to hurt you," Latham taunted.

"**No**!" Tony yelled it, hands shaking.

"He's going to cut you. And make you bleed. He may kill you this time."

"No," Tony choked it out more softly, and pulled the trigger.

There were no bullets.

Latham smiled and dismissed the other man, while Tony dropped the gun, and collapsed on the floor.

The speaker was turned on again. The cacophony of whispers returned.

Stratton came back in.

Tony had his hands to his face, quietly weeping.

"So?"

"He's almost ready…but almost doesn't cut it. It has to be complete. He still needs too much…convincing. Continue the regular protocols. I want a final resolution on this project in one week, Stratton. One way or another."

"Yes sir, my pleasure," Stratton said, smiling down at Tony, curled up on he floor.

"And Stratton, good work."

(end flashback)


	22. Chapter 22

There was a lot of commotion coming from outside. But in the entrance of the warehouse, everything had become still.

"Gibbs! We have some trouble," Ziva said in his com.

Then he heard McGee, chiming in from his position at the base. "We see them, Ziva. We've got it all on visual. We're on our way, hang on."

He ignored it for the time being.

Tony had one arm up, gun against the SecNav's head. He was looking at Jarvis angrily, his hand was shaking, and his finger was playing upon the trigger.

Jarvis didn't move.

"Tony," Gibbs repeated his name. "Don't do it. Don't shoot"

Tony's posture was rigid, his eyes focused at the man in front of him. His breath was shallow.

Latham was smiling.

"_DiNozzo!_ Are you hearing me ?"

"He's going to hurt you, Tony. Kill him," Latham said smoothly.

"Shut up, Latham, before I _end_ you," Gibbs threatened, in a low, dangerous growl.

Tony was shaking more violently now, his brow furrowing. He was seeing Stratton, not Jarvis, standing there next to him. The man who had torn his soul apart, piece by piece.

"It's **not** him, Tony," Gibbs said, knowing now what the sick bastards did. "Remember? He's _gone_, Tony. Stratton is gone."

Tony was almost gasping now, the gun shaking against Jarvis' temple. He could hear Gibbs' voice, telling him not to shoot…but why would Gibbs tell him that?

"He...he's gone...?" Tony said with a quiver in his voice. He still didn't look at Gibbs.

"No more lies. No more secrets. Remember? It's not him your pointing that gun at. They're **tricking you** into killing the wrong person. Look at me, Tony."

Tony's eyes were starting to well up. The confusion was tearing him apart. He knew if Stratton was alive, he would try to hurt him again. But, he trusted Gibbs, didn't he?

"Look at me. Tony, _please_, son."

Gibbs saw the fingers flexing again...almost itching over the trigger. And then they released away from it.

Tony looked at Gibbs, with a tear tracking it's way down his cheek, as his body swayed a little.

"Boss...I don't know...I don't know what's real..." the words were desperate and sad, his face pale and eyes filled with pain.

His arm suddenly fell away from Jarvis, gun skittering off on the ground.

The crease between his brow seemed to lessen, and then his eyes rolled up in his head as he simply crumpled down.

Gibbs moved fast, but not fast enough, trying to catch him, and landing on the ground next to him. He turned quickly on the floor with his gun raised but it was too late.

From outside, they heard two shots fire in succession from the warehouse.

Ziva was calling him on the com. "Gibbs ! What happened?...Gibbs !"

Latham was dead, face up, blood flowing out from the back of his head. His gun resting in his limp right hand.

Jarvis was also on the ground, struggling to breathe, as blood flowed from a wound in his chest, and from his mouth.

Gibbs scrambled over and leaned over him, trying to compress the wound.

He looked up as he heard Ziva swear in Hebrew over the com and gunfire being exchanged outside.

A hand grabbed at his wrist. He looked down again at Jarvis.

"G-Gibbsss..." Jarvis was trying to speak. "Go..."

Gibbs shook his head no, but was torn because he knew Ziva and the others needed him outside.

"You'll bleed out, Sir," Gibbs said evenly.

"I'm the damned.. Secretary.." he coughed up some more blood," of the United...States Navy...Go! It's an order, Gibbs."

Gibbs looked at the man, for just a moment, and said, "Semper Fi, Mr. Secretary."

He got up, knowing without immediate medical help, Jarvis was done.

Tony was still on the floor, but showing signs of coming around. He hoped he would be okay, but had to find out what was happening outside.

He turned to Latham's corpse, just for a moment, grim satisfaction in his icy blue eyes.

"You didn't do it, you sonofabitch. You didn't break him. But I sure broke you, didn't I?"

He tweaked the com. "Ziva, sitrep !"

He looked outside and saw Latham's hired guns, taking cover behind their vehicles, while Ziva and the rest were behind the Prince's.

From the looks of it, Latham's men were outnumbered, but regardless, they had big guns and plenty of ammo, pinning down Ziva and the rest dangerously.

Gibbs saw one of the original guards lying on the ground, sadly, now covered in real blood.

"McGee," Gibbs growled into the com, "What's taking you?"

"We're almost there," he heard McGee's voice over the sound of chopper blades.

More bullets tore into the Prince's vehicles, and they all returned fire. In the fray, he heard a scream.

It was Ziva.

"Ziva!"

"I am here, Gibbs," she said, clenching her teeth in pain. He tried to see which vehicle she was behind. "It is not serious."

"The Hell it isn't!" he said, running back into the warehouse as fast as he could.

More gunfire was exchanged outside.

Tony was just starting to open his eyes when he saw Gibbs leap over him carrying something long and tube-like. Was he dreaming again?

From outside, the barrage could be heard again, until something, very much like a missle, sailed out of the warehouse entrance, and hit one of the enemy vehicles.

It exploded, shaking everything around it with the vibration of its impact. The SUV burst into flames.

Almost at the same time, a helicopter could be heard, and appeared from behind the warehouse.

The remainder of Latham's men ran from their cover, the other vehicle, as the chopper deployed it's own weapon, blowing that one to bits as well.

They dropped their weapons, and put their hands up.

Gibbs put down the rocket launcher he'd borrowed, smiling, and said,"About time McGee."

McGee gave him a heads up from the chopper, as the pilot landed it.

Gibbs saw Ziva run to meet him, holding her hand to a bloody shoulder.

He turned to look at Tony, who was sitting up, but looking at the dead bodies of Latham and Jarvis.

"Damn," Gibbs muttered, realizing Tony had no idea what happened, and maybe even thought he killed them.

He crouched next to the younger man, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Tony?"

There was no response. Tony's mouth was slightly open, and he seemed to be frozen, except for the subtle tremors running through him.

Gibbs called him again, and shook him a little.

But there was nothing.

"Come on, Tony, it's over. Look at me."

He just continued to stare at the two dead men, oblivious to Gibbs' pleas.

Tony was in shock. Or...worse.

Gibbs prayed to himself that it wasn't some kind of breakdown, and he gently took his hand, turning Tony's head by his chin, towards him.

The green eyes had almost no expression in them. Tony was looking at him, as if surprised or confused Gibbs was there.

"Tony..." Gibbs said more urgently.

But Tony just stared at him, and said nothing.

"Ah, dammit," Gibbs said brokenly, and put his arms fiercely around the unresponsive man.

Tony was still, as Gibbs told him, "You're gonna' be okay, I promise you."


	23. Chapter 23

Gibbs tried to get him to snap out of it, but he just looked around, as if trying to remember something. They got him into the chopper, to go back to the base at Camp Patriot, with Ziva and McGee.

Other transports were arranged for the men who had helped them, and for the ones taken into custody.

Before they got into the chopper, Prince Ibn Alwaan had approached Gibbs.

Gibbs put his hand out, "I can't thank you enough for your help, for our country, and for Tony."

The Prince smiled, "It was my great pleasure, Agent Gibbs," he said, returning the handshake. "Mr. DiNozzo Senior is my friend. And I know what it is to have a son." The Prince gave his hand a bit more of a squeeze at the last word, before letting his hand fall away, and bowing slightly. He smiled and left, getting into his car.

Gibbs watched the HUMV lurch forward, the second one following it, clouds of dust following in the path of their wheels.

He turned to the chopper and hopped up into it, sliding the door closed behind him.

McGee was in the cockpit with the pilot again.

Tony was shaking in his seat and had his arms wrapped around himself, looking down.

Ziva tried to touch him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and he shook his head, curling himself into a ball over the seat, hyperventilating, tears streaming down his face.

She pulled her hand away, looking at Gibbs desperately.

He stared at her for a moment, worry lines around his eyes becoming more prominent. He shook his head at her in silent misery.

She swallowed and looked down at her feet, sadly, while still pressing gauze to the bullet graze at her shoulder.

At best Tony had let himself be led, almost stumbling, back into the Camp Patriot facility for a quick check with medics. He barely looked at anyone, or spoke.

It frightened them all, since this was just not Tony. His silence was deeply disturbing.

The medic who looked at him couldn't say if it was just shock or a breakdown of some kind, and to make things easier for Tony, suggested sedation.

Gibbs stayed with him the whole time, trying to talk to him, as if he were listening.

When the medic approached Tony with the needle, he jumped off the cot he was sitting on, backing away, and started screaming. Before Gibbs could stop him, he fell down in a tangle of the various trays and stands next to the bed he had been sitting on.

As Gibbs pinned him, holding his arms down, he cried out in terror, "NO! NO! DON'T!"

He gasped for air, struggling and kicking, catching Gibbs in the shin painfully.

"GOD-" he clawed at Gibbs, but the man just held onto him.

The medic dove in and gave him the shot.

As he quickly faded, he blinked tears from the green eyes, looking at Gibbs accusingly, "I…trusted you…" and with that his eyelids shut.

And now they were on the transport home.

Aside losing Jarvis, it was a victory, getting Latham, and tracing his accounts back to several previous buyers.

In the end, the SecNav had proved to Gibbs he was more of a man than they had all thought.

The CIA was already hunting down all the missing microchips, not just the ones Kort had allowed them information on.

They should have been feeling relieved about the success of the mission, and the prospect of recovering the technology that threatened national security.

But no one was.

Instead, were all stealing exhausted glances at Tony, pale, and unconscious, buckled into his seat along the wall.


	24. Chapter 24

Gibbs sat in the waiting room at Bethesda with Ducky.

He was exhausted, and very worried. He kept getting up to pace around, sipping coffee, then sat a minute, just to do it again.

Ducky remained seated and still, eyes following Gibbs' movements.

In his mind, Gibbs played Tony's words, "I trusted you," over and over, sad about the look in the younger man's eyes, as he succumbed to the drugs given to him in Kuwait.

"It's my fault, Duck, I should never have let him come on the mission. He wasn't right. And I knew it…" guilt ate away at him.

Ducky sighed. "Jethro, there is _no way_ you could have known what was going to happen. And it was so very important for him to see some resolution to things…after what he went through. You did what you thought was right. And in the end, I know he will thank you for it."

"I don't think so," Gibbs said, looking down and picking at his coffee lid. "You should have seen him, when they came at him, with the shot to sedate him. He completely freaked out, Duck...I had to hold him down."

"Ah, well, it would be extremely surprising if Anthony remembers any of it clearly. I wouldn't assume the worst about his reaction. The trigger in his mind had just been sprung, Jethro. He may just need time to come back to himself…I'm sure the doctor will let us know what's going on soon."

They were quiet for a bit.

"Ziva and McGee were wiped, but they wanted to stay here with DiNozzo. I had to order them home." He smiled a little at that. "I told em' I'd call when I knew somethin'."

Ducky nodded. "How was Ziva's shoulder ?"

"Twenty stitches, no real damage. Luckily."

Ducky nodded again.

After some more silence, Ducky asked, "Stratton?"

"Was reported lost at sea by Latham. But...I can assure you, he's gone for good."

Ducky nodded. "May there be a special room in Hell for both of them."

"Copy that," Gibbs said softly.

Out of the fray of hospital staff walking back and forth, someone finally stepped towards them. It was Tony's admitting Doctor.

"Agent Gibbs, Doctor Mallard," she greeted them as they stood up quickly.

"He alright, Doc ?" Gibbs asked anxiously.

"Well, I believe that likely in time he will be. But, let me explain what I think is happening." The doctor seemed to pause, focusing, pushing her glasses up on her her face. Dr. Maung was an extremely attractive Asian woman, in her late thirties.

"After discussing a bit of what Agent DiNozzo has experienced with you upon admission, and after talking with him as best I could, I feel a diagnosis of Brief Psychotic Disorder is appropriate. I believe that within a few weeks, he should for the most part be back to normal. If after that, he maintains more serious symptoms, I would treat him for PTSD. Flashbacks from the drugs that were introduced to his system should generally fade over time as well, and I don't see that as a root cause for any of this. The main thing is the trauma, but because he is somewhat responsive, I am confident it's not a true psychotic break."

She paused as Gibbs let out a shaky breath, feeling a bit relieved.

"Ah, Doctor, may I ask, will you be administering any drug therapy, and when will he be released?" Ducky looked at her intently.

"To be on the safe side, yes, there will be some medication management, for now, along with therapy. I'm prescribing Ativan to control anxiety, and his psychiatrist can work out if he needs an antipsychotic. I feel one like Seroquel would be recommended, however, I would like to see how he does by tomorrow with just the Ativan. If he seems delusional, I will prescribe Seroquel then. And as long as he seems calm and responsive, he may go home tomorrow afternoon, but I won't release him unless someone is going to look after him for a few weeks and make sure he sees a psychiatrist. We have some very good ones-"

"Rachel Cranston," Gibbs cut her off. "She has experience working with our team. I called her already but she's out of town for two more days."

"She's very good. I would be very comfortable releasing him under her care. Will either of you be looking after him until he's back on his feet ?"

"I will," Gibbs said affirmatively.

"Well, I have some literature on BPD for you. Agent DiNozzo's case is rather unusual, so though most of my diagnosis applies, some things could come up outside the expected symptoms. Please don't hesitate to call me or Doctor Cranston if that happens." She handed her card to Gibbs, and then one to Ducky.

"May we see him now, Doctor?" Ducky asked.

"Yes. But, don't be alarmed if his reactions are still limited, or if he doesn't seem to make sense. The BPD can cause disorientation, and we already gave him the Ativan. Stop by the nurse's station, Agent Gibbs, and I will leave the information for you on the disorder."

"Thanks Doc," Gibbs said and headed to Tony's room while Ducky continued talking with her.

Tony was on his good side, still likely feeling the mending ribs on his other. He was asleep, or so Gibbs thought, as he pulled a chair up and sat next to the bed.

He noticed the green eyes, half way open, looking at him languidly.

Gibbs gave him a wan smile.

"How you feeling, DiNozzo?"

Tony just continued to gaze at him sleepily.

"Doc says you're gonna be okay, it's just gonna take a little time."

Tony looked away from him.

Gibbs sighed.

"You really scared me today. But, in case you don't know it, you never pulled that trigger, and those bastards didn't win. You came through, and I'm so, so proud of you, Tony." Gibbs' voice had become a hoarse whisper by the end, as he picked his hand up and stroked Tony's head.

Tony looked back at him, blinking, and said sadly, "Stratton...I saw him...but...I killed him. Isn't he dead? And... the bird...Boss...I saw it again too...can't let it...can't..." his voice trailed off as his eyes closed, falling asleep.

"No," he said with a shaky sigh, "Stratton is gone for good, Tony. Stratton and Latham, they're both dead. And the bird is gone too." He wasn't sure what the bit about the bird meant, but reassured him anyway, assuming it was connected to the lethal trigger phrase they tried to program him with.

He looked at the pale, drawn face.

Gibbs was trying to picture they way Tony had looked before all of the business with Jarvis and Latham.

He missed the large, genuine grin, and the eager, humorous expression he carried.

He sighed and shook his head.

"We'll get you back there, Tony. We will. Not gonna' let them win a damned thing," Gibbs promised.

He felt Ducky's hand on his shoulder.

"No, we're not."

Gibbs fell asleep in the chair in Tony's room after Ducky went home.

He didn't wake up even when the nurses came in to occasionally check on Tony.

The next morning, in Director Vance's office, Ziva, her arm in a sling, and McGee sat, tiredly going over the account of the mission.

"Gibbs is still at the hospital with Agent DiNozzo, who I understand may be released today."

"Yes, Director," Ziva said.

"It was good news we got, David, that DiNozzo will make a full recovery, given some time. Agent Gibbs will be taking leave for a few weeks, along with Agent DiNozzo, and you two will be temporarily assigned to another team until they're back."

They nodded.

McGee looked worriedly for a moment between Ziva and Vance, "Ah…Ziva, I mean Agent David, her shoulder-"

"She has a few more days leave as well after this, Agent McGee."

Ziva rolled her eyes in disgust at McGee, but secretly liked him looking out for her.

Vance leaned back in his chair.

"You two and the rest of the team, did an excellent job in stopping Latham, and helping us get the information needed to recover the microchips. I am confident that we will get them back."

He looked down and sighed, "The cost of all of this, was several lives, including that of Secretary Jarvis. Since I have yet to get my full debriefing from Gibbs, either of you care to recount what happened? Ballistics already showed Latham's gun shot the bullet that killed Jarvis, and Gibbs shot Latham."

"Are you saying there is a doubt cast on whether or not it was necessary for Gibbs to shoot Latham?" Ziva's eyes flashed dangerously.

"No," Vance shook his head. "Agent Gibbs is a seasoned professional, Agent David, and I am just trying to make sure I understand all the facts completely before I explain it all to our President."

She turned color a little, realizing she had been hasty.

"There were two shots fired, that we heard from outside the warehouse, and they came in rapid succession. I was unable to go to the warehouse because our men, Prince Ibn Alwaan and his men, and I, were pinned down by enemy fire." She gazed at him steadily.

"And before that, what did you see going on in the warehouse?"

"Gibbs…Agent Gibbs and Agent DiNozzo had Latham subdued, and Secretary Jarvis was talking with Latham. The Prince had gone back to his men at their vehicles."

"And…."Vance was trying to understand, because Gibbs had only skimmed over it, "how did Latham get the opportunity to shoot the SecNav, and what happened that caused Agent DiNozzo's…condition?"

Ziva's gaze did not waver. "I do not know, exactly, Director Vance."

"Try a little harder, Agent David."

"Somehow, Latham shot Secretary Jarvis."

"Yes, Agent David, I think we have established that fact already." Vance eyed her suspiciously. He knew Gibbs would never let Latham get the jump on him, and that DiNozzo had some kind of episode. He wasn't trying to crucify anyone for Jarvis' death…but he would be expected to explain it. It was likely, in his mind, DiNozzo's episode distracted Gibbs and things got out of hand.

McGee shifted slightly in his seat. He knew it might not be the best idea to have it in any reports that Tony had almost succumbed to brainwashing. If he stood any chance of coming back to work, he'd still have to pass a psych evaluation. And they didn't want to make it worse for him.

Vance sighed.

"Agent McGee, I know you were at the base, and on your way to the location when all this went down. Is there anything you care to tell me?"

"Uh, well…I think it's probably that Tony seeing Latham cause him to have a stress reaction. But after what they did to him…" McGee knew Vance needed _some_ kind of explanation for his reports.

Vance stared at McGee for a while, while McGee did his best not to nervously look away.

Ziva tried not to smile because of how proud she was of McGee protecting Tony.

"Alright," Vance said, deciding to let them off the hook, "you two can go. I'm going to have a long day. And I need to talk to Gibbs before I'm in the hot seat again today."

As they got up, McGee hesitated.

"Director?"

"Yes, Agent McGee?"

"What about Kort?"

"After he departed with Latham's private chopper, we lost him in Kuwait. However, Kort apparently had his name on two of the LLC accounts connected to Latham, and immediately managed to get his hands on fifteen million, calling it in before he probably even left Kuwait. CIA is trying to track it now."

Ziva and McGee both looked angry.

"Ohhh, don't look so glum," Vance said, "slimy characters like Kort always turn up again, like a bad penny."


	25. Chapter 25

The Russian man had Kort by the throat.

He'd caught up with him in an outside market in Brussels, Belgium, dragging him into a small, dark alley.

Kort thought to himself, a little amused, that people were always so pissed off that they wanted to ring his neck.

Sergey Oleskev was furious to discover the CIA was after him, and the microchip Kort had helped him purchase.

He was going to resell it, but now it had become a liability. No one would buy it from him while the CIA had a direct trail to him.

He'd spent several days, with one thought in mind. Killing kort.

"Tell me Mister Kort," he said with his thick Russian accent, "now that I have no capital to keep myself off the map with, what should I do with my wonderful microchip?"

Of all the buyers Kort had, Oleskev was the most violent and dangerously connected one.

If he didn't find a way to smooth things over, he would be a dead man, if not at that very moment anyhow.

"Sergey," he said as soothingly as he could, "it was not my doing. Latham double crossed us all. I would never be so foolish as to do anything to incur your wrath."

Sergey now had a knife, coming up to Kort's throat.

"Stop !" Kort cried, squirming. "I can fix it so you have something useful, something you can sell at top dollar."

"And what could you possibly give me that would bring enough money to make up for this…inconvenience?"

"A secret weapon, someone within the U.S. government, who can be programmed to kill anyone. He has access to many people of power…you can use him yourself, or someone can pay you for the hit, and he will take the fall for you."

He saw he had the man's attention.

"Hell, you can sell him to the highest bidder. I can introduce a target for you, with a few days of work, or I can just deliver him to you to finalize programming yourself."

The man thought about it for a moment. It would not make up for the money he lost on the chip, but – it would earn him enough to disappear and change his face.

He released Kort.

"You had better know what you're doing. Or I will kill you as slowly and painfully as I am capable of."

"Don't worry," Kort said, now with a smile, the plan giving him great pleasure, "I will make sure it's worth your while."


	26. Chapter 26

Gibbs took Tony home in the afternoon, glad for the information that was provided to him, and the meds that would hopefully help his friend recover.

But he also knew, most doctors had never treated someone who went through what Tony did. So, he took nothing for granted, but was hopeful.

Tony was still withdrawn, but there was definitely a bit of improvement.

They were both slow, getting out of the car and into the house.

Gibbs made coffee.

Tony sat on the couch.

Gibbs in the chair.

And they were just quiet for a while.

After a while, Tony's eyes were closing, his head falling back on the couch. Likely, Gibbs thought still exhaustion, as he hadn't taken any more medication since the morning.

Gibbs gently sighed. He was relieved they were home, and that the nightmare was over. And he hoped above all else that Tony would be okay in a few weeks, and they could all move on from the damage Latham and Stratton did.

He remembered the first real look at the damage they did to Tony's body, in autopsy, after Jarvis' interrogation.

He shuddered and shook his head to himself, worry lines around his eyes intensifying for a moment.

He never imagined something like this could happen, as a result of someone in their own military. And it really bothered him that Jarvis had forced Tony into it, right under Gibbs' nose. It still made him burn with anger, if he thought about it too long. About Latham, and Stratton, and all the pain they caused.

Tony could have easily been dead several times over, and could have had a complete breakdown. It was a testament to his strength and courage, that he survived as intact as he was. Tony came close to losing his mind because of what was done to him. Gibbs almost couldn't bear the thought.

Gibbs gazed at the sleeping face.

"What would we do without you, DiNozzo?" he asked softly.

At least, with Rachel Cranston helping, Gibbs knew Tony had good chances of passing a psych eval when he was ready to take it. _When_...not _if._ _Thank God_, he thought.

Gibbs closed his eyes for a moment, continuing the silent prayer of thanks.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

It was Vance on the caller ID. He scowled.

"Gibbs."

"Like you don't know who's calling, Agent Gibbs."

"And how was your day, Leon?" Gibbs offered a little smugly.

"Well, so far, about as well as you might expect, Jethro, considering I've had a lot of explaining to do."

Gibbs was silent.

"I already told the President_, our President_, that Secretary Jarvis was shot while trying to personally assist in the arrest of Sean Latham. And I told him that though Latham had been disarmed, enemy fire from his men caused the distraction he needed to get hold of a weapon and discharge it."

Gibbs was still silent, raising his brow, feeling surprised by what he heard. It was a good corroboration with what Ziva had _seen_, before she was placed outside in the fray. Leaving the only crucial report to him.

"Since both Agents David and McGee were not there, and you have been otherwise preoccupied, can I assume that I filled in the blanks correctly? And that Agent DiNozzo's...condition was due to the stress of the kidnapping and the mission?"

Gibbs said, "Leon..."

"I was in that room with you, when Jarvis brought DiNozzo in. He's been through enough. But I want your report tomorrow, on my desk by 11:00 hours. And Gibbs, don't make me regret it," Vance said, a little angrily, and hung up.

Gibbs looked at the phone for a moment, and smiled while flipping it closed. " You're getting soft in your old age, Leon."

He put the phone down on the kitchen table as he went in for more coffee.

He was about to pick up the pot when he heard Tony cry out and something hit his living room floor.

As he turned quickly to run in and see what had happened, Tony got up from where he must have landed on the floor, and stumbled to the corner of the room near the couch.

Gibbs watched as Tony leaned into it, putting his hands on the wall, and slid down into a ball while struggling to take deeper breaths. He put his shaking arms around his legs, pulling them to him.

Gibbs approached slowly, sitting down a few feet from him.

Tony put his head down, on his knees.

"Tony," Gibbs said calmly, "what's going on? Were you dreaming?"

He didn't answer right away.

Then, with a quivering voice, "I dunno, because...I don't know... if this is the dream..."

He picked his head up to look at Gibbs, with desperation.

"What if..." he swallowed, "What if I'm still there, in the chair..." his green eyes were wild now, looking at Gibbs. "or...I'm still hanging from the hook...and..." he was having trouble finishing,"what if I'm not home..."

"You are. You. Are. Home."

"Maybe..." he swallowed back a sob that got caught in his throat," you're not real..."

Gibbs looked at him for a long moment.

He leaned forward, and smacked Tony in the back of his head.

"Ow," Tony rubbed his head, eyes wide.

"That feel _real _to you, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked gently.

"Uh..." his eyes were still watery but he smiled just a bit, "yeah, Boss. It did."

Gibbs smiled back at him. "Good."

"That one…that one was pretty hard, Boss."

"Yeah, well..." Gibbs said, groaning as he got up,"the harder the head the harder the smack." He smiled and offered a hand to Tony.

Tony looked up at him, hesitating, but finally reached up with his shaking one. Gibbs helped haul him to his feet, steadying him.

Gibbs could feel see slight tremors still going through him.

"How about coming downstairs and keep me company while I sand? Maybe I'll order food in a while..."

Tony nodded, but didn't look at him or say anything else.

He kept Gibbs company, choosing to lie under the boat, with some bubble wrap he found under his head, opposite the end where Gibbs was working.

He was content enough to be there, near Gibbs. He focused on the sounds coming from the fine sandpaper Gibbs was using on the wood, doing his best just to be home, to feel it, and not think about it.

He didn't speak another word that night.


	27. Chapter 27

Gibbs brought Tony in with him to the Navy Yard, but since technically they were both not working, he felt it would be better to Tony to lie low, and perhaps visit Ducky while he got his report done for Vance.

What he didn't realize was that Brian O'Shea's body could now be released to his family, since the sting had been executed. They were told the truth as soon as word came through that Latham went down.

Ducky had poor O'Shea on ice, since he came in almost two weeks ago, but was now preparing him to go to his family.

He didn't expect to see Tony, dropping into the suite just to say hello, though he knew Gibbs was coming in for a while to do paperwork for the Director.

"Tony! Ah…." Ducky's eyes wandered to the gurney, with the zipped up body bag on it.

Tony was going to say hello to him, but then saw what the M.E. was looking at.

He froze in place for a moment, swallowing.

"Duck…is that…?"

"Yes, Tony," Ducky said sadly, walking towards the agent. "It's Brian O'Shea. He's finally going home."

Tony felt like he almost couldn't take any more. He thought maybe he was going to unravel for good.

A flash of memory burst through his mind. Floating in the sea, holding the dead man to him…he heard the whispers start up from the far corners of his mind.

But…Brian…he owed him so much…he had to keep it together.

"I…can I just be alone with him for a little while?" He looked at the older man, and shifted a bit on his feet.

Ducky wasn't sure it was such a good idea. He knew Tony's mental state was fragile at best. But, it didn't seem right to deny him time with his friend, to say goodbye.

"Okay, Tony, " Ducky nodded. "But afterwards, I think we should go get some air? Mr. Palmer is out refilling supplies and I have no other pressing appointments. Maybe we go to the café' until Gibbs is done with what he needs to do ?"

Tony nodded, swallowing, "Thanks Duck."

"I'll be right outside."

Tony walked over to the gurney, as the door closed behind Ducky.

He stood for a while, working up the nerve to unzip the bag.

He took a shaky breath, and then pulled down the zipper, just a bit, to see O'Shea's somewhat death distorted face.

He swallowed, putting a hand gently around the head.

"I'm sorry, Bri," he whispered, silently weeping , a few tear drops falling into the body bag.

He looked at the face.

"You really saved my ass, man. I just wish…you were... still here." He swiped at more of the tears.

"I thought I was done for, you know that? They…they almost did it."

He looked down for a moment, and then back up to the still face.

"I'm still not sure, I guess that they didn't. But…my head…I just wish, you were still around. You were the only one on that boat who…" he shook his head. "Well, you know, don't you."

He stroked the hair for a moment, "You're a hero, you know that ? And when I'm better, I'm gonna go see your mom, and your sister Morgan. I'm gonna tell them …I'm gonna…tell them," he was choking out the words, "what you did. And how brave you were."

Tony took a deep breath. He still heard the whispers in his mind, and they got a little more insistent with the stress of seeing O'Shea's body again.

He zipped up the bag with a shaking hand.

Someone walked into the door behind him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

It had little black fingernails on it.

He smiled, turning around, even with the tears still drying on his face.

Abby just looked at him for a quick moment, taking in his expression, and then put her arms around him without saying a word.

Ducky called Gibbs from his office phone.

"Gibbs."

"Jethro."

"Tony okay, Duck ?" Gibbs asked suddenly worried.

"I believe so but –"

"What's going on?' Gibbs was on edge. He's had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach since they had left the house.

"Oh, since the whole affair with Latham is now over, Brian O'Shea's body has been released to go back to his family-"

"And let me guess, Tony's standing in front of it right now."

There was a hesitation.

"I had to, Jethro. I could not deny him saying goodbye."

"I know, Duck. Just keep an eye on him. I have another hour to do here…if he needs me – let me know."

"I will. And actually I am going to try and get him out of here for a bit when he's finished."

Thanks Duck."

Ducky hung up the phone

He wondered if he should check on Tony.

As he walked back into the hallway, he was relieved to find Abby was leaning against the wall, talking to him, with her hand on his arm.

She was trying to fill in for how quiet Tony was, by talking a mile a minute about a personal project she was working on, knitting dog sweaters and selling them to make money for a local animal shelter.

He smiled a little at her, even though he didn't add much to the conversation.

"Abigail, did you come down for something in particular? I wasn't expecting you, my dear," Ducky said curiously.

She turned to him as Tony looked on.

"Oh I saw Gibbs…I knew Tony was here, so I came down to see him."

"Ah, well, I am about to take Anthony for a civilized cup of tea – or in his case some strange cappuccino-like beverage. Do you have time to join us ?"

"Awwwww! Ducky ! I can't I'm sorry!" She turned to Tony, "I wanto, really but, I have two other cases in I have to work on."

"S'okay, Abby," he smiled but Ducky saw the red rimmed eyes, "we'll have plenty of time." _Thanks to O'She_a, he thought.

She smiled and hugged him. "Yes. Yes we will."

Gibbs got his paperwork in to Vance early, snorting in disgust to find Vance had gone out to a meeting anyway. He left it on Vance's desk.

He thought he could surprise Ducky and Tony by showing up at the café. He liked the coffee there anyway.

He passed the bullpen, where only McGee was doing some computer work, since Ziva was still on leave for her shoulder wound.

"McGee," he growled the greeting as he walked by.

McGee looked up, momentarily surprised to see Gibbs.

"Uh- hi Boss !"

Gibbs continued walking to the elevator, smiling to himself as he heard the puzzled, "Bye Boss…"

He knew McGee was busy, and they would likely see him over the weekend, along with Ziva and Abby.

It was almost 11:30, and the lunch hour hadn't begun, so the streets were fairly calm.

The café was on a corner, about 10 minutes walk from the Navy Yard.

As Gibbs turned the corner, he heard the sound of wheels burning rubber on pavement, and gunshots, along with screaming.

A white van careened around the next block and faded out of sight.

He ran, seeing Tony trying to get himself up from the sidewalk, while Ducky held a gun on another man, lying on the ground, cursing.

As Gibbs caught up to them, gun also trained now on the unfamiliar man writhing from a gunshot wound to his leg.

"What the hell just happened?" he asked them.

Tony didn't make a sound, he was still sitting on the ground, shaking and looking at the man with dazed confusion.

"Two men tried to pull Tony into a van just as we came around the corner. It pulled up very quickly, just as I walked ahead not four paces from him, and the threw the door open, trying to grab him. They weren't anticipating one of us had a gun though."

Gibbs knew Tony couldn't technically carry until he passed psych. But…he didn't think they had to worry about it anymore.

He stole a glance at Tony, who was frightened and silent, as he slowly got to his feet.

"You get the plate?"

"No...but we have one of the culprits apprehended, so I hope you will forgive my lack of attention to that detail. It was rather fast, and I wanted to keep them from taking Tony."

"Thanks, Duck," Tony finally said in a low tone, with tremors running through him. Gibbs realized, he was not just frightened. He was pissed off.

"Absolutely my pleasure, my dear man."

"You ever see him before ?" Gibbs asked, looking at Tony, almost wanting to weep in relief he hadn't gone back in the shell.

He shook his head. "No... never." And then he looked at Gibbs, hearing the ambulance coming in the distance, "I think."

As the man moaned, clutching at his leg, Gibbs smiled at Ducky. "Nice shot. He's alive. I'll be able to interrogate him."

"Well, a scalpel is surely not the only tool in my repetoire, Jethro."


	28. Chapter 28

"Bloody **idiots**." Kort spat.

"You told us to get him when Agent Gibbs wasn't around. Well, that's not often. And, his other pal was armed. You didn't mention other people we needed to watch out for." The man was calm, letting Kort's anger wash over him. He was in his forties, with a rough looking, scarred face. His eyes flashed dangerously in the darkness.

"And what about your other _cohort_, what happened to him?" Kort paced in the large storage locker he had prepared for his "guest".

" I drove...they were supposed to grab DiNozzo...Orrantia took one in the leg."

Kort rolled his one eye.

"So, Orrantia is in the hospital." Kort said, a little too calmly.

"Yes. But he won't talk. He knows better."

"That is unfortunate. And now I need to clean up that mess _myself._ You're lucky, Tilson, that I have no time to find other...help. I am due to deliver my _package_ fully operational in ten days. "

Kort's pacing slowed a little, as he came to a stop in front of the man.

"You and Stern, you screw up again and you won't just be missing a payment, you'll be missing a head." The words were hissed out.

There was a pause.

"Understood."

Kort stood, thinking a bit.

"Gibbs can't be with him all the time. And he's on leave...because he's a bit over the cuckoo's nest. I'm sure we can find a window of opportunity."

Kort lightly fingered the generator he'd bought just for Tony. The idea he would be torturing..._reprogramming_, the man himself, gave him a shiver of pleasure.

"Two birds with one, very enjoyable stone..." he said it more to himself.

Then he turned to the man, "Keep an eye on Gibbs' house. I need him here as soon as possible. An opportunity will come. And for pity's sake, stay undetected…You've done these kind of jobs before. Use the brain I know you have and **figure it out**."

"Understood."

They had identified the would be kidnapper as Antonio Orrantia, a wanted murderer, who made his ends meet with a long history of "for hire" situations, both in the U.S. and South America.

Gibbs wanted to question him right away, but the man was in too much pain to answer him, and the doctors pushed them away before he went into surgery.

They went back to the Navy Yard, in light of the five hours Orrantia would likely be in surgery.

Tony sat at in Vance's office with Gibbs.

"What happened?" Vance asked, eyes intent on them.

Tony didn't say anything, and seemed to be lost in thought. After the attempted kidnapping, he had been a bit vocal, but soon after, seemed to close off again.

"Someone tried to grab him. Outside the café', down the block with Ducky. And Duck stopped them." Gibbs glanced once back to Tony's now pale face before waiting for Vance's response.

"In light of everything that's happened…do we have any idea who would want to abduct Agent DiNozzo, and why ?" Vance looked at Tony, who finally met the Director's eyes.

"I dunno…why. I'm…I don't have the chip anymore…so, honestly Director, I have no idea."

Vance nodded. "When is our suspect available for interrogation?"

"They said about five hours. We'll go back in a while and wait," Gibbs said evenly.

Vance nodded again. "I want to put a detail on your place, Gibbs, and someone will be available to escort Agent DiNozzo to any of his appointments…" he looked at the younger man.

"Tony, I don't want you directly involved with the questioning of the suspect, or in following the details through right now."

Tony opened his mouth to protest.

"No," Vance held his hand up. "Your job is to let us take care of this, and get to your doctor appointments, so you can pass your psych eval. Until then, you know you can't arm yourself, and you have to _cooperate_, with the agents we assign to protect you." Vance's tone was gentle. He saw the completely distraught look on Tony's face, and added, "Just until we figure it out."

Tony sighed, and nodded his head, looking at the floor.

This was just another way he felt out of control, powerless to stop what was happening to him. Since the whole thing started with Jarvis, he'd felt derailed in many ways, and wanted badly not to feel like a victim. That was hard to do with everyone protecting him.

"Gibbs, let me know what you find out later. Take McGee with you. And as soon as David is well enough, we'll get her in to help."

Gibbs nodded once at Vance, grateful his first priority was to keep Tony from anymore harm.

Gibbs realized though, that Tony was not exactly pleased with the situation, as he drove him back to the house, with McGee in the back seat.

Tony was slumped in the passenger seat, looking out the window.

"Don't you think," Tony said quietly,"I should be armed to defend myself if necessary?"

Gibbs sighed. He knew the conversation was not going to end well. he saw McGee looking nervous in the rear view mirror. Too bad he'd have to witness the eruption about to take place.

"I think you know, you're still not right."

There was no sense in sugar coating it, because it would only make things worse.

"But-" Tony began, however, Gibbs cut him off.

"You have nightmares, hear voices, have episodes, even when you're awake where you're off somewhere else. You could potentially see things, that just aren't there. You pulled a gun on Jarvis, only two days ago…do you really want to carry one, right now?"

McGee was silent in the back seat, mortified.

Tony's jaw muscles worked a little as he ground his teeth for a moment. He licked his lips and continued to look out the window, but he wasn't paying attention to the scenery. He was trying to control his emotions, and the feeling of helplessness that was gnawing at him.

"What I really want,' he said angrily, "is to stop feeling like everyone's _goddamned project_." He turned to Gibbs.

Then it became louder, as he was almost yelling. "What I really want, is to sleep in **my own goddamned bed**, and not need **you **to babysit me."

"Tony," Gibbs began, pulling up to the house, "I get it. Believe me, I do. But there isn't a choice right now."

He looked at Tony, who was staring ahead, fuming.

"Fine," he said flatly, and got out of the car, without turning back.

Gibbs sighed, knowing DiNozzo didn't do helpless well, if at all.

Problem was, since what happened to him on The Phantom, he was more vulnerable than Gibbs had ever seen him.

He shook his head.

"He's just frustrated, Boss. I mean, Tony isn't really mad at _you_, he's just..."

"He'll be alright, McGee,"he said watching Tony go into his house.

He pulled away to go to the hospital, after McGee got out and then took the front passenger seat.

There was already a protection detail, off to the side, parked down the street in view of the house.

And he had Ducky coming by to check on Tony later.

No wonder Tony felt the way he did. Because, though they were only trying to help him, he'd become a prisoner again.


	29. Chapter 29

He just about slammed the door behind him.

Tony was completely disgusted and wasn't sure who with. Gibbs, or himself.

He knew he had acted like an ass in the car, but, he still felt that he needed to have some say in everything happening around him.

And he definitely needed a way to defend his own life.

He was tired of people screwing with him.

He sighed.

He walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water, still angry.

The glass made a little clink as he held it up to the tap, and he turned it on.

As it began to fill. the soft hiss of the water through the pipes made a sound, similar to the sound of the whispering voices starting up.

And they did. They started up. He heard them, layered murmurs of "silver seabird" echoing through his mind.

Suddenly he was not holding a glass of water, but a gun in his hand.

He was running with it, across a beach, looking for cover , running from one of the rhino-sized sea birds.

It was flying behind him, cold, staring eyes locked onto its prey.

Up ahead was a cliff, with low-lying caves. He had to make it before the razor sharp beak and talons tore him to shreds.

He twisted to squeeze off a round at the bird. It's scream as the bullet tore into it was horrifying. It was so loud that he almost fell to the ground.

But he kept going, scrambling, almost to the cave.

Someone was waiting in it.

It was Stratton, holding the damned knife.

Tony fired at him…but, Stratton just laughed.

Suddenly he realized, he was going to die. And it was his choice. Stratton…or the giant bird.

He suddenly dropped the gun, standing stock still, as the talons took him down.

He gasped, looking up at the ceiling of Gibbs' kitchen, lying in a puddle of water and broken glass, and blood.

The sink was overflowing because he'd left the water running faster than it could drain.

He noticed pain in his right hand, where the glass had broken in it, probably when he fell.

He raised the shaking hand to look at the cut, as the pieces of broken glass fell away, in confusion.

How long he had been in the hallucination?

Suddenly, though his heart was still racing from the horror of the experience, he started to laugh.

He thought about how angry he was at Gibbs for telling him he shouldn't be carrying a weapon. How angry he was for not being left alone.

"**_Now_** look atchyou, DiNozzo!"

He let the hand fall to his chest, blood staining the front of his shirt, as his laughter became almost hysterical, at the absurdity of it all.

And when Ducky let himself in the front door, that's how he found him.

At Mercy Hospital, Gibbs and McGee arrived on the fifth floor, where their suspect had gotten out of orthopedic surgery for the bullet Ducky kindly put in his leg.

A guard had been posted outside the man's room, to make sure he didn't escape. They couldn't be sure the others wouldn't show at the hospital.

Gibbs wanted to question him right away, as soon as the bastard was awake.

The uniform nodded his head at them as they showed their badges to him before entering the room.

Immediately, Gibbs noticed the pillow over the man's face and rushed to the bed.

McGee ran out of the room, calling for help.

But it was too late.

The man was still, eyes open but expressionless.

"Damn!" Gibbs growled, furious.

The Metro Cop came into the room, and was alarmed at what he saw.

"But…no one was in here but hospital staff," he said nervously.

"_Obviously,_ someone else got in," Gibbs said angrily to him.

Hospital staff rushed in, as Gibbs was putting on a glove to remove the pillow and take it back to NCIS as evidence.

"McGee-, " he said turning to leave the room.

"Hospital security footage. On it boss." McGee ran off ahead of him to get to the security office.

Gibbs sighed, and then asked a nurse, "Can I get a garbage bag ?"

She looked confused as he held up the pillow. She shrugged and went to get him one.

She brought the box and he pulled it out.

As he put the pillow into the bag, he muttered, disgustedly, "Great."

Later, he and Abby were looking at the pillowcase, enlarged microscopically, while McGee was calling up the security footage on another screen.

They had viewed it at the hospital, trying to ascertain who had been the person that killed Orrantia, but there was only one figure that didn't match up to the nursing staff and attending doctors listed on duty.

He could only be seen from behind. Medium build, tall, caucasian, wearing scrubs, cap, and a surgical mask.

McGee was running more close-ups to try to get any detail they could from the figure who kept his head down and turned away from the cameras, both going in and coming out of Orrantia's room.

"So, the pillowcase obviously won't hold prints," Abby said, turned to Gibbs. "But, this person knew that, and didn't bother wearing gloves."

She sipped her straw, looking at him expectantly.

"Gibbs, don't you wanna ask me how I know? How I know they didn't wear gloves?" She was wide eyed, gesturing with her free hand, the other still clutching the Caf-Pow.

Gibbs tilted his head, smiling just a little. "Abby, how do you know the killer didn't wear gloves?"

"Well," she smiled, putting the cup down and turning to her screen, "the grouping of these particles-" she highlighted small grey granules, "that formed the pattern of where fingertips would be, they were under the nails of our killer. You can see the both thumb locations and where the hands and fingers concentrated on holding the pillow…Pushing it down caused this debris from under the nails to sort of smudge out onto the fabric."

"And?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"And Major Mass Spec told me what they were. Cement and paint dust."

"From a garage ? Or a shop of some kind?"

"No…I'm thinking storage facility. Because, there's an absence of anything else, like motor oil, or metal, or sawdust. AND, we had one little fiber." She pointed back to the screen and zoomed. A small cardboard fiber."

"Is there a way to know what color that paint dust is ?"

"Yes, but I need a little more time on it. I am also going to call around the area to see if I can get information on which paint colors different facilities use."

"That's good work, Abs. Let me know as soon as you get more info."

"Boss," McGee said, "I've been enhancing the video from the hospital, but, I'm still not getting anything else."

They both watched the man go in and exit Orrantia's room again, passing the security guard seated next to the door.

"Whoever he is, he came to make sure Orrantia didn't talk."

Before McGee could answer, Gibbs' cell rang.

"Gibbs," he said while still staring at the image of the fake medical worker.

"Jethro."

He knew from the tone. "What's wrong? Is Tony alright?"

Both Abby and McGee stopped what they were doing, alarmed.

"He's alright Jethro, it just seems he had a bit of an…episode and broke a glass…in your kitchen…"

"What happened?"

"Ah…well, your kitchen needs a little…clean up but , I'll do my best. Tony is alright, but I gave him seven stitches in his right hand and an Ativan. He was just in an odd state when I got here…"

"Was he doing that, not talking thing…?"

"No no, not like that. Oh well, I'll tell you when you get here. He's alright for now. How is it going? Did the bastard talk?"

Gibbs sighed. "No. He didn't get the chance. They got to him first."

"Oh dear," Ducky said with disappointment.

"Abby's onto something though. We'll see what we can get. I'm staying a little while longer. But I can be back in an hour and a half."

"Alright, I can wait for you since I'd like to clean this up anyway."

"You can leave it Duck. I'll see you soon."

"Alright Jethro, and…be careful."

After they hung up, Ducky looked again at the wet floor, with blood and glass in the middle of it. He sighed. And wished he could get the bad feeling he had to go away.

He took another look at Tony, asleep on the couch, with his bandaged hand.

"What a state I found you in, my dear Anthony," he said softly, worried.

Tony had stopped laughing when he saw Ducky, but as he explained the minor argument he had with Gibbs, at least it made some sens why he started up again.

At first, Ducky had thought they needed to take him back to the hospital.

But Tony calmed quickly, and could talk about the experience, and why he was so hysterical over it. It seemed sad, but a very sane reaction to the flashback and after arguing with Gibbs.

So Ducky decided to stitch him up, and make sure Tony got an appointment with Rachel Cranston set up for the next day. He left a message for her on her office number, knowing she was back the next day.

Ducky turned back to the mess in the kitchen.

"Better get to work," Ducky snorted to himself, "before he comes home and sees this. I get enough of the second "B" in Gibbs on a regular basis."


	30. Chapter 30

Ducky got the glass up, and the blood, and most of the water off the floor.

As he gathered up the trash, he glanced over at Tony, still asleep on the couch.

He tied off the bag, containing the broken glass, and decided to put it outside, just off the front steps to be taken down to the bins later.

He opened the front door, carrying the bag with him.

Ducky dropped it on the ground, peering up at the protection detail he knew Gibbs had on the house.

He could almost make out the two agents in the front seat.

He sighed, taking a deep breath of the night air.

It was quiet on the street.

Protectively, he scanned around both ways, taking in the other parked cars, looking for anything suspicious.

He wondered who it was, that wanted to kidnap Tony. And why.

He thought back to finding Tony, earlier, lying on the floor hysterically laughing, broken glass and blood around him. And the suddenly wide-eyed, sobering look as he saw Ducky.

He was shivering, lying on the wet floor.

"M'sorry, Ducky. I hope you don't think I'm crazy now," he said it almost with a smile.

Ducky leaned down. Tony was trembling.

"What are you doing here on the floor, my dear friend?"

"I…" Tony's green eyes saddened for a moment, "I had another little…episode. And I must have blacked out for a bit…or something. While I was getting a glass of water…"

Ducky gently pulled the bloody hand from Tony's chest.

"Ah, well…this is going to need stitches…and maybe we should go to the ho-"

"No, Ducky! Please…I'm alright." He pulled himself up slowly, to sit up, with Ducky's help. "I just…Gibbs dropped me off. And I was, uh, a little pissed off…because I can't take this anymore. I mean, I'm a grown man, a federal agent. I shouldn't need babysitters."

"I see," Ducky said, starting to understand.

"And- I just, kind of lost it…" he said, laughing a little again, bitterly, "because look at me. Five minutes alone and look at me. Ridiculous. Right after I told Gibbs off."

Ducky smiled gently, "I think I can certainly understand all that." He decided, with some relief, not to push Tony into going to the hospital.

"I have a kit in my car, so if you like I can patch this up here. But, let's get you up off this wet floor."

Ducky stitched up Tony's hand, which luckily had just a superficial cut across the fleshy part of the palm, and made sure he went to change into some dry clothes.

After, he sat with Tony, on the couch, just a bit longer.

"Would you like to tell me, about what happened?"

Tony looked at the sincerity in Ducky's blue eyes, as they peered at him a little over the glasses.

He took a shaky breath in, and then released it. "Sometimes…things trigger me, like seeing something, or even a sound. And this time it was just the water from the faucet. I dunno, maybe because it was so quiet in here anyway…" he trailed off but then shook himself, and continued. "The sound, of the water running…it…made me hear the whispers again…I still hear them now a little, but, not so bad. I know what they're saying, of course." He shuddered. "But, I was…just not here anymore. I was somewhere else…"

He bit his lip a little and looked down at the floor.

"Tony, " Ducky said gently, "it's alright. You really can just say it. Remember, I've seen other people, victims of such heinous mind tampering…there's nothing that you can tell me that would make me think badly of you."

Tony looked up at him, "I was on a beach…" he said slowly,"and…it's so real. It's like I'm there, Duck. The sight, the sounds, the smell…so real. And I was running from a…"he looked up, and smiled, a little embarrassed, "a giant bird."

Ducky just nodded, not pulling any change in expression.

"The bird…I've hallucinated about it before…it's got a really sharp beak…talons…and it…kills people, and me." Tony swallowed convulsively, looking around the room.

"And, this time?" Ducky asked softly.

"I was…running, for a cave, for shelter. And I shot the thing. But it was still coming…and,…S-Stratton, was in the cave…holding …the knife." Tony was shaking again, voice hitching slightly. "The knife he used, to…" he faltered again, needing to breathe. "I had to make a choice. Stratton…or the bird. So I let it get me. And…then I just woke up, I guess, where you found me." Tony closed his eyes.

Ducky nodded. "Well, that all sounds rather horrific. But the more you talk about it, along with some more time to heal, I am positive it will get better. And you know, Rachel Cranston is quite excellent."

Tony looked at him, with a glimmer of hope.

"I want my life back. I really can't stand this, Duck."

"I know," Ducky put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You will be okay, Anthony. It will just take time."

Ducky had given him the Ativan then, to help him calm down some more, and sleep.

As he came back from his thoughts on earlier, went back into Gibbs' house, closing the door behind him, he noticed the couch was empty.

"Tony?"

He looked to see if Tony had gone to the guestroom. The bed was empty.

"Anthony !" he called again, searching upstairs, with building anxiety.

No windows were open. Nothing looked out of place.

He quickly returned downstairs. He walked to the kitchen, looking at the back door. He opened it easily. It was unlocked. But hadn't it been locked before ? He had checked it before even stitching Tony's hand.

"Anthony !" he called, but there was no one in the back yard.

He turned, walking back in the kitchen, and saw something in the sink, which he had just cleaned a short time ago.

The Ativan was lying in it, a little velvety distortion around it, from being held in Tony's cheek, no doubt.

"Ah ! What are you doing my boy," Ducky said, pulling out his cell phone to call Gibbs.

As it rang, he hurried down the steps to Gibbs' basement.

He hoped he was wrong about his suspicions.

"Gibbs."

Ducky sighed unevenly, a knot in his stomach.

"Jethro, we have a problem."

He was looking at the empty workshop drawer, where Gibbs usually kept a gun.


	31. Chapter 31

Stern was sitting in the van. It was parked almost around the block from Gibbs' house.

He had the window open half way, just to be sure he could hear if any sirens sounded from police cars.

He waited in the dark, sitting on his cell phone.

Tilson was out, moving through the shadows, and sitting outside the house, watching for an opportunity for them to grab DiNozzo.

"They've got a protection detail outside the house," he heard Tilson say sourly on the other end.

Stern scratched his greasy, black hair. Tilson barely gave them a chance to eat, much less shower, since the first attempt they botched.

They both knew if they screwed up again, Kort would kill them.

"So what now? We need to get a hold of this guy asap. Or our ass is grass. DiNozzo has to sleep. They all do. Any chance you think we can just wait til they turn in, and get in & out fast? I know we're down a man…so – the detail poses a problem…I think we'd both need to be in there to take down Gibbs and grab him."

Tilson replied quietly. "One of us would have to take them out. But, we have to make absolutely sure we can get our hands on him…Or, we wait. And watch for another shot tomorrow." He was trying to figure it out.

The clank of something hard against the half opened window caught his attention.

His eyes widened.

A gun was pointing in his face.

"You lookin' for me?" Tony asked in a low, menacing croon.

* * *

><p>Gibbs was frantically pacing his living room, while the two agents who were supposed to be watching Tony waited outside. Understandably, fearful of Gibbs' wrath.<p>

Ducky was sitting on the couch, and McGee stood off by the kitchen.

"What in Hell is he _thinking _!" Gibbs growled angrily.

"Jethro, I am sure he felt the need to _do_ something…"

"Yeah, something **stupid**! Dammit. They saw nothing out front," he gestured towards the door. "We know he went out the back. And I'm gonna guess he canvassed for suspects himself."

"Boss," McGee said worriedly, "His cell is still off." McGee was on with Abby, trying desperately for any sign of the cignal.

"You would think he would leave the damned thing on. C'mon McGee, let's get back in the car and drive around. Maybe we'll get lucky and find him before he finds trouble." Gibbs already had people out looking for Tony, but he needed to do something while they tried to work out where he had gone.

"I'm sorry, Jethro," Ducky said sadly, feeling he was somehow responsible for not anticipating Tony's rash action. He sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

Before he went out the door, Gibbs turned and said, "Don't beat yourself up Duck. Not much stops a determined DiNozzo."

"Amen to that," Ducky said softly to the house, now empty except for him.

* * *

><p>Tony had the gun in his hands, still pointing at the greasy man as he drove. He'd made him disarm before he got into the van and forced him to start the journey to his mysterious enemy.<p>

"Seems a little strange, dude."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Tony asked with brows raised.

"You want me to take you_ to_ the guy who wants to get his hands on you."

Tony reached with one hand into his pocket, and pulled out his cell, turning it on. It wasn't his plan to keep Gibbs away from helping him…he just knew Gibbs wouldn't have let him out in the first place. He had suspected that whomever tried to snatch him earlier that day, was waiting, lurking close by to try again.

He'd been right.

"Yeah…about that," he said, keeping the gun steadily on the man, as Gibbs' cell rang, "wanna tell me who it is that wants the pleasure of my company so badly?"

"DiNozzo! Where are you?" Gibbs was practically yelling, while Tony could hear McGee in the background talking.

"Boss," McGee said faintly, Abby has a fix on Tony's cell."

"Sorry, Boss, you know I have a hard time sitting in one place, with my A.D.D. and all…"

Gibbs continued to yell at him, while he said to the man driving, once more, "Who, who is it that wants me so bad?" Gibbs had become quiet, hearing Tony asking the question.

The man kept his eyes on the road, nervously gripping the steering wheel.

"Kort. His name is Kort."

Tony hear Gibbs swear on the other end of the line, "_That slimy sonofabith!_"

"What does he want with me?" Tony asked angrily, drifting the gun a little closer to the man, as they came to a traffic light by a U-Store storage facility.

"I-I dunno, he never told me. I wasn't the one who made the deal. It was Tilson."

"Where's he ?"

"When you made me drop the phone…he was somewhere near the house."

"And where is Kort ?"

"We're almost there. He's waiting for us to deliver you to him. If I help you, can I cut a deal ? I mean, you guys are gonna take him down right? You'll need someone to testify…"The man's blue eyes looked at him imploringly, genuinely concerned about himself.

"We'll talk about that later. Now park it."

The van pulled into a spot in front of the entrance.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs said loudly over the receiver.

"Yes, Boss?" Tony asked innocently.

"You. Do. **Not**. Go. In there. **Do you understand me?** Wait for us. We're calling for more backup."

"Got it Boss. Waiting for you," he said firmly, having no intention of taking such a foolish risk. He was just feeling incredibly satisfied to have solved some of the mystery. He was looking forward to taking Kort in…and hoped maybe Kort would "slip" so he could punch him in the one eye…

As the man shut off the ignition, Tony was about to say something else when he heard a knock at the window behind his head. He winced, and turned to look, keeping his gun trained on the driver.

It was Tilson, he assumed, with an abundantly scarred face, darkly glinting eyes, pointing a gun at him now as well. Tony thought he must have gotten a cab once he heard Tony get the drop on Stern.

"Shit."

"Drop it," Tilson said.

Tony knew he was screwed.

He dropped the phone onto the floor of the van, hearing Gibbs, calling his name frantically.

The driver took Tony's gun, as he unlocked the door, and Tilson dragged him out of the van.

"We don't have much time, man," Stern said. "We should waste him now and split, so he can't I.D. us."

"We deliver him to Kort, as we were told. Then we can split. We do it now, and Kort gets outta this, we're as good as dead."

"No way, man, I'm outta here." Stern turned, and started to walk back around the van.

"Suit yourself," Tilson said, putting a bullet in his head.

Tony took that opportunity to struggle, but Tilson was able to pull the gun back and pistol-whip him in the jaw, almost making him black out.

He dragged Tony into the facility, dazed and bleeding from a cut on his jaw.

He forced him up a flight of stairs, gun jammed into his neck, all the way to the end of the hall, and wrapped twice on a door that had no padlock on it.

It slid open, revealing Kort, and a large room filled with frightening equipment.

"Here he is Kort," he roughly threw Tony down on the ground, as Kort took in the sight of them both.

"What's going on, Tilson," Kort asked suspiciously, as the man looked extremely harried.

"You may have company soon. I suggest you take him…and play somewhere else. But I'm going. I've made good on the deal. I expect to be paid." Tilson still had his gun out, now holding it on Kort.

Kort smiled. "Of course, you've completed the task. Albeit, with trying to get us caught."

Tony moaned, finally getting his bearings, and started to sit up.

It caught Tilson's attention for just a second, long enough for Kort to knock the gun away and deliver a focused strike to the man's throat.

Shocked and gasping in pain, he clutched at it, while Kort pulled a gun from his jacket in one smooth move and shot him in the head point blank.

As his body hit the ground next to Tony, Kort said, "It's so hard to find good help these days."


	32. Chapter 32

Gibbs heard Tony when he muttered, "Shit," on the other end of the phone, and the muffled sounds of it dropping from his hands.

"Tony!" Gibbs called, several times, with no response.

Gibbs heard the sounds of the car doors, and Tony being dragged out, followed a little while after by a gunshot.

Fear gripped him now.

"How much farther, McGee?" he barked.

"We're about 3 miles from the storage facility." McGee saw the look on Gibbs' face, as he hung up the phone.

A chill went through him.

McGee said a silent prayer that Tony wasn't dead.

* * *

><p>"<em>DiNozzo<em>," Kort purred with sick glee, the one blue eye, oozing malevolence at him. "I'm so glad you could join me."

Tony looked next to him at Tilson's body, and then up at Kort.

"Can't say I feel the same, _Trent_," Tony said with real hatred.

Kort had the gun on him now.

He started to notice, behind Kort, were things that made him suddenly mute with fear.

A metal chair, bolted to the cement floor. A generator, sitting off to the side, with a file on top of it. A table, with an array of knives, wires and bottles and vials of liquids, and syringes.

He looked along the walls. He looked behind him quickly. There were items stacked by the door. A portable stereo. Some metal rods, with pointed ends, varying in length. And a propane torch.

Trembling, his eyes widened, as he looked up and saw the chain lengths, hanging down from the ceiling. One, with a large meat hook on it.

He felt sick. These were all of Stratton's tools, meant to cut, and burn, and hurt him. His heart was pounding in his throat.

The whispers were starting up again.

"_N-no...nonono_, Tony shook his head, horrified.

"Oh, yes," Kort smiled maliciously. "I have a special use for you, my old _friend_. And we're on a time constraint, I'm afraid. We'll need to do this somewhere else."

Tony's body was shaking. He couldn't breathe, and started backing away crawling a bit on the floor, towards the door.

Kort took one of the syringes and filled it with one of the liquid vials on the cart. He put his gun down, knowing at this point, Tony was falling apart anyway.

"This will help me get you into the car more…willingly."

Tony's back hit the doorframe, as Kort approached him, smiling, with the syringe.

He was gasping, as his vision shifted.

He saw Stratton now instead, approaching him with it.

And looked down at his own naked body, covered in blood and burns.

The feelings also crashed into him, like a wave.

Anger, humiliation, pain, desperation...

Despair.

The whispers grew louder, and louder, as Stratton grinned at him.

Tears started to accumulate in Tony's eyes.

His hands blindly groped for something... anything, that he could keep Stratton away with.

And as the sick, joker-looking smile loomed over him, the syringe came down to his neck.

Tony screamed.

* * *

><p>From outside the facility, Gibbs and McGee could hear the frightened, agonized sound.<p>

Gibbs didn't even bother closing the car door. He took off, running, McGee after him, only glancing at Stern's body on the ground by the van.

Guns drawn, Gibbs pointed for McGee to follow him upstairs, where he heard something like an angry wail echo from the hallway.

They approached quickly, but carefully, seeing the open locker at the end.

As Gibbs slid up next to the door, he motioned for McGee to cover him.

They heard something like hitched gasping coming from the room.

Gibbs suddenly swung into it, and was immediately struck by the violence of the sight in front of him.

Two bodies were lying still on the cement floor.

One was a man with a scarred face, blood flowing, spread out like a dark red mirror underneath his head, eyes open, and hole between his eyes. Kort's hired...and fired help.

Trent Kort was a few feet away, face up and still, with a metal rod sticking straight up and out of the bloodied socket of his good eye. It was mangled and gorey, as if the rod had been stabbed in and out more than once.

Gibbs couldn't help but feel glad the slimy sonofabitch was dead.

A hypodermic needle filled with liquid was on the floor next to Kort's dead open hand.

And Tony, with a cut on his jaw, hands bloody, and tears drying on his face, sat rocking just slightly on his knees next to Kort.

"Clear," Gibbs said, swallowing down his nausea, "McGee, we need an ambulance. And Ducky. Call them. Now."

McGee was frozen in place for a moment, taking in the horrific scene, and the equipment in the room.

"Oh my God…" he breathed out, as Gibbs also took in the rest of the room.

"McGee," Gibbs said, softly.

"Ah…on it. O-on it, Boss." McGee worriedly looked at Tony and then turned to make the calls.

Sirens from the Metro PD backup were starting to wail from a distance.

Gibbs approached Tony, who hadn't moved, but was still rocking a little in place, looking down at Kort.

"Tony," Gibbs put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

He gasped and flinched, looking up suddenly at Gibbs.

"It's over, come on, let's get out of this room."

Tony allowed himself to be lifted up by the elbow, dazedly gazing at Gibbs.

"Boss?"

"Yeah, Tony," Gibbs put an arm around him, gently guiding him as he stumbled out into the hallway.

"I killed him… again…" he said, almost wonderingly, his green eyes glassy.

Gibbs let him back down carefully, to sit on the floor, not wanting to move him much more. The thought of letting Tony spend one more moment in that room, was unacceptable. Gibbs felt a little better having gotten him out of there.

"You what?" Mcgee asked softly, confused.

"Stratton," Tony whispered, rocking a little again, while Gibbs put a hand lightly to his face.

Gibbs frowned, knowing this was added trauma the younger man didn't need.

"I…I k-keep killing h-him…and he…he..." Tony was shuddering. His eyes became even more unfocused, and he was becoming extremely pale.

Gibbs took his coat off, and wrapped it around his friend.

Putting his hands on Tony and leading him carefully towards the floor, on his side, he said, "Lie down, Tony. Everything's okay. It's okay now. Stratton is dead. He is never coming back. It was Kort, Tony." He looked up at McGee who had grown very pale with alarm.

"He's in shock. Go down, and make sure the EMT's get up here right away." Gibbs looked at him only a moment before his eyes returned sadly to the tremor ridden form before him.

McGee nodded, giving Tony a deeply pained glance before running back down the hallway.

Gibbs was still squatting next to Tony.

He squeezed Tony's shoulder gently through the jacket.

"Tony, you did good, son."


	33. Chapter 33

Tony opened his eyes slowly.

Hospital. Again. _Great._

But why? He struggled to remember.

As he opened his eyes wider, blinking, he noticed Gibbs, in a chair next to his bed, asleep.

The Boss was snoring slightly, head tipped back, making Tony smile a little.

From the little bit of light coming into the room, he gathered it was very early.

He moved a little, rubbing his face and coming across a bandage along his jawline.

And then it started to come back.

Leaving...no, sneaking, out of Gibbs' house… the man he found talking about him on his phone in a van. The drive to the storage locker… and...Kort.

_The storage locker...and Kort..._

Filled with equipment, to… Kort was going to...torture him…

Tony started to breathe a little more rapidly, remembering the items in that room and Kort coming at him with a needle...

And then...Stratton ? Was he...alive? No. No, he was dead.

He sat up a little, confused and knowing he must have some things wrong.

What if he was in the hospital...because none of it was real?

Was the cut on his jaw real?

He was tired, and miserably bewildered.

Why couldn't he think clearly?

Was he in the psychiatric ward?

His breath started hitching, as all the fear came rushing in.

He leaned into his hands, trying to choke back the moan of despair rising from his throat.

He felt the bed dip next to him, and arms pulling him in. A hand gently pushed his head against a solid chest.

Gibbs rested his chin on top of Tony's head, rubbing just behind his ear in an attempt to soothe him.

He knew Tony would be very confused and disoriented, after they brought him in and sedated him last night.

Tony started to gasp and hiccup slightly into Gibbs' sweater, clutching at him desperately.

"I...I wish I knew, for sure ..you were real, Boss..."the words were sobbed out, filled with pain and sadness. "I feel like…I went down a rabbit hole…I can't find my way back…"

Gibbs held him more tightly.

"I've got you," he said in a murmuring voice. "It's okay, Tony, it's just gonna take time. We're all gonna help you get back. I promise."

After a while, Tony's shaking started to ease up, as Gibbs continued to reassure him, stroking his head and looking out the window at the sunrise.

Tony's hands loosened their grip, and slid, lazily down to the bed while his breathing evened out.

Gibbs released him slowly back down, his head dipping to the side before arriving back on the pillow,

He had fallen back into an exhausted sleep.

Gibbs looked at the pale, sleeping face, eyelashes still a bit wet.

He took a shaky breath and then sighed, resting his hand for a moment on his friends.

"We've got a lot of work to do…but I'm not goin' anywhere, DiNozzo."

* * *

><p>It was another silent ride back to Gibbs' house.<p>

Tony was extremely pale and withdrawn. He still responded when addressed, but offered no more than asked.

Vance agreed McGee could take Tony's statement later from Gibbs' house, and expressed to Gibbs in a subtle way, his pleasure that Trent Kort was dead.

Gibbs was glad he was dead. And wished he could have killed Kort himself.

He _knew_ Tony was on that ship, and told no one, leaving him to be tormented and hurt by Stratton and Latham.

The fact that Kort was going to try and use Tony that way _again_…it was sick. It made Gibbs' blood boil.

He tried to shake off thoughts of Kort, and focus on Tony. Gibbs made sure he had a visit scheduled with Rachel Cranston the next morning.

Tony fell asleep on the couch, as soon as they got in, and Gibbs left him alone. He would need to wake him in an hour when McGee came for the statement.

Gibbs' cell rang.

"Gibbs."

"Tony is almost kidnapped _again_, he _kills_ Trent Kort, and no one thinks it is important to call me?" Ziva sounded genuinely irritated.

"Hello Ziva," Gibbs said, smiling to himself a little, anticipating the inquisition.

"Gibbs. Really. Why did you not-"

"It all happened too fast, and then we had to get Tony to the hospital. Besides, you're still on medical leave, Ziva, you couldn't have helped us."

"Gibbs. It does not matter. Tony is my partner too and I-"

"Yes," Gibbs said, not exactly apologizing, but knowing she needed to hear it, "someone should have called you."

She paused then, running out of steam.

"Well, McGee said… he was not badly injured. Is he alright, Gibbs?"

He frowned.

"Physically, yes. But…no he's not okay. He will be, Ziva, in time."

She was silent for a while.

"I…I will come later to see him. And you. Gibbs."

He knew she was very concerned, and frightened. And needed him to reassure her.

"Bring dinner," he said, before hanging up.

Just then, he heard a whimper from the couch.

Tony was twitching a little, breath a bit shallow, no doubt caught in an unpleasant dream.

_About what_? Gibbs thought sadly. _Stratton torturing him? Kort 's sick collection of tools? Or maybe just a lovely re-run of Barrett or O'Shea's deaths ?_

He shook Tony gently, "Hey. DiNozzo."

Tony's eyes opened quickly, and he furrowed his brow, looking at Gibbs.

He didn't say anything, just stared at him with watery eyes.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked quietly.

Tony looked down and nodded slowly. Then he seemed to settle back, still not looking back to Gibbs.

After a moment, Gibbs walked back into the kitchen, sensing Tony wanted to be left alone.


	34. Chapter 34

McGee was sitting on the chair in Gibbs' living room, taking in Tony's ashen complexion and tired looking green eyes.

He had put the recorder on the coffee table, not having turned it on yet until Tony was ready.

Tony was sipping some water while Gibbs came to stand and lean on the edge of the couch, perching on its arm.

"Okay, Tony, you think you can do this?" McGee asked gently.

Tony nodded and looked down for a moment, "I'll do my best, McGoo."

McGee was inwardly thrilled, just to have Tony use any of the normally offensive nicknames.

McGee opened up a file, with some forms, and had Tony sign them, and then turned on the tape recorder, stating the date and time of the interview.

"Okay, Agent DiNozzo, can you start with when you made contact with the suspects?"

They watched as he looked at the table and took a breath.

For Gibbs, it sent him off in his mind, remembering when Jarvis had brought Tony in directly from Sardinia.

"I had a feeling, that whoever it was that tried to grab me, in the morning, was gonna' try again. And…I didn't want to just sit around…waiting for that to happen."

Gibbs bit his tongue.

"I…ah…" he eyed Gibbs cautiously, "borrowed a weapon from Agent Gibbs, since I was not at home for access to my private weapons."

McGee knew that Tony was not allowed a service weapon right now, until he passed psych…but personals were a different matter entirely.

"Then…I decided to just take a look, around the area, but I went out back, because I thought I'd have a better chance at surprising someone if they didn't know I left the house."

"Was a surprise to the protection detail too, DiNozzo," Gibbs said in a low, irritated tone.

Tony's eyes widened just for a second, before he smiled just a little and continued.

"I found a white van, parked around the corner, and a man inside discussing my, ah…kidnapping. And how they were going to try and do it. I disarmed him. And got him to take me to the location…of the man who wanted to get me." Tony paused now, rubbing his head for a moment.

"On the way, I called Agent Gibbs, for backup. When we arrived, there was a second guy, who I assumed had been the other one sent to kidnap me. He was originally outside Gibbs' house, where I was staying, when i caught his cohort in the van. I thought we'd left him behind, but he must have gotten a cab…or stolen a ride, because he was there. He had his gun on me just after we parked the van, and then I was outnumbered. So…I gave up the sidearm, and the one we know now was Tilson, dragged me out of the van."

"The other one -?"

"Was Stern. And we know from what you dug up today, that this was not the first rodeo for either one…"

"And," McGee asked for the benefit of the recording, "did Stern tell you who it was that ordered your abduction?"

"Yes," Tony took a shaky breath. "Trent Kort." He said the name like it was a bad taste on his tongue.

"And then what happened?" McGee asked.

Tony thought for a moment.

"Stern…he wanted out. He knew I had backup coming. He told Tilson he wanted to off me there, and split, so I couldn't be a witness."

Tony got quiet for a moment, shifting a little in his seat, then rubbing his eyes.

"Do you need a break?" McGee asked with concern.

Tony shook his head no.

"Apparently, Tilson was more afraid of the wrath of Kort…so…he shot Stern…while his back was turned. Nice guy." Tony unconsciously picked at the piping on the couch. "I tried to break free while Tilson was distracted with killing Stern, but it…ah, didn't work out to well."

"Ya' think?' Gibbs said under his breath.

"He popped me in the jaw with the butt of his gun. And then pretty much dragged me into the storage facility."

Tony sat back now, rubbing his palms a little on the sides of his jeans.

"He took me to the end of the hall, to the locker where…Kort was…"

Both Gibbs and McGee saw the tension building in their friend.

"Tilson, sort of…threw me down on the floor. And they had a short exchange. Kort was angry they had screwed things up by getting caught…Kort…shot Tilson at point blank in the head."

Tony reached to the table for the water, glass shaking a little in his hand, as he brought it to his lips, and put it down after taking a sip.

He looked at McGee for a moment, then down again.

"Kort…told me…he…was going to…" he swallowed, and heard the faintest of the whispers start. He shook his head, trying to block them.

"Tony…" McGee said, worried, while Gibbs also tensed slightly.

Tony held his hand up, for a moment and then continued.

"He was going to use me as a weapon by trying to brainwash me, with…the same…tools Stratton used." He felt dizzy now.

"But there was no time for that…he knew you guys were on the way…so he…went to the table, and got a syringe…to knock me out with."

"Did he tell you how he was going to utilize you ?" McGee asked, hating himself for having to say it.

"No."

Tony was trembling. They could see it clearly.

"What …happened next?"

"I…" he blinked a while, mouth open slightly, trying to put it together in his head…but the damned whispering voices were getting so loud.

"Tony," Gibbs called his name.

"I…saw Kort…"he said, looking around the room, trying to get it clear in his mind, "but…then…I dunno, I got confused…"

"We found you…Tony, next to Kort, dead with a metal poker in his head…" McGee wanted him to remember. "Do you recall at all what happened?"

Tony stood up on shaky legs, needing to pace, trying to escape the voices somehow. He took a few steps to the middle of the room, Gibbs and McGee both eyeing him warily.

He paced back and forth, seeing the moment it had happened – Kort morphing into Stratton…he knew now it had been a hallucination…but how could he explain it? Would the truth put him off the job permanently ? Should he just lie and fill in the blanks?

He was trying to gather the words, when Ziva walked in.

She saw Tony first…and smiled.

And then she saw Gibbs and McGee, and the recorder.

She looked at Tony, and asked, "Is everything alright?"

Tony stopped and looked at her for a moment, and then let out a bitter laugh.

"Oh," he said loudly,throwing his arms up in the air, "it's **better** than alright, it's **perfect**! I've lost my** freaking mind**! But – things are great."

She just looked at him, as he stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked away from them, and took a deep breath , rubbing his face.

Gibbs nodded at McGee to turn off the recorder. "We'll come back to it later."

McGee immediately shut it off.

Tony 's brow furrowed, as he became even more distraught at the idea he was screwing up on McGee, not just getting it done and over with.

They were afraid to approach him…except for Gibbs.

"Tony-" he said, putting his hand out to touch Tony's shoulder…

"No!" Tony twisted away from him. "Don't," Tony looked at him, pained, "I …need to take a walk." He quickly strode out of the house, the storm door slamming shut behind him.

"Shouldn't we-" McGee began.

"No," Gibbs shook his head and sighed. "He needs to get some air. He's had enough of for now, I think. We have to let him process some of this. He'll come back."

"What about…the statement for the Director, Boss ?" McGee asked.

"I'll get it done. Maybe even with Doc Cranston helping. Leave it with me McGee. I can handle Vance."

"Is it going to help, Gibbs? Tony seeing Doctor Cranston?" Ziva asked him, staring off in the direction Tony had gone.

He sighed again. "Let's hope so."


	35. Chapter 35

Tony paced.

The whole length of the warmly decorated waiting room.

Until Gibbs couldn't take it anymore.

"DiNozzo," he warned.

Tony didn't stop but snapped his head up, "What's taking so long?"

"I didn't think you were that excited to see the Doc."

Tony took a deep breath. "I wanna' get this over with."His tone was a little dark.

"Not gonna' be that quick. It's not a one shot deal." Gibbs tilted his head, thinking. "You expecting her to declare you insane, or something, Tony?"

Tony looked at him, and sat down, dropping heavily into the chair.

He folded his arms over his chest, and looked away from Gibbs.

"Oh…I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed, Boss."

He sighed, in defeat while Gibbs looked at him with concern.

"Unless you know how this kind of thing usually ends up, I would keep my options open. Don't write yourself off just yet."

Tony just scowled.

"_Ow_!" the headslap came at lightning speed. "Okay!" Tony said a little angrily. "I'm not crazy, but maybe _you_ are…ah, Boss…" he tried to catch himself as Gibbs glared at him.

Just then the door to Rachel Cranston's office opened.

A sandy haired woman with a ponytail, in her early twenties, and a jogsuit, walked out with Cranston following her.

She had a comforting hand on the young woman's elbow as she spoke.

"I'll see you next Tuesday, Emily. Just remember the exercises we talked about."

The woman shook her head, and croaked out a "Thank you," before she left the waiting room with her tear swollen eyes, barely looking at the two men.

Tony suddenly felt a little guilty about being impatient. Obviously, that girl had issues.

Rachel looked at them, and gave them a warm smile, "I'm sorry for keeping you two waiting. Emily needed a little more time, but, I'm clear after this, so we can take as much time as we need." She motioned for them to follow her into her office.

Gibbs plopped right down on a small couch against the wall, while Tony looked momentarily confused as to where to seat himself.

"Right there, Agent DiNozzo," she pointed to the seat right in front of her mahogany desk.

She sat down herself, and looked at Tony.

"Do you want Agent Gibbs here for this session, Tony?"

Gibbs looked vaguely irritated by the question, but then seemed to think better of it, looking interestedly at Tony for his response.

"Ah…yeah, I don't mind if he's here. I can't imagine there's too much I would feel uncomfortable discussing in front of him."

"Well, this appointment is for you, and I want you to feel free to say whatever is on your mind when you need to."

Tony nodded.

She took a little breath, and leaned forward, folding her hands in a relaxed fashion on the top of her desk.

"Doctor Mallard filled me in on some of the details of what brought you here, and I have to say, you've really had an interesting couple of months." Her voice was soft and relaxing, with it's subtle purr, but her dark eyes looked into his with intense observation.

"Interesting." He said, and looked around her office for a brief moment. "Okay. I guess that's one word for it." He looked up at her. "I might describe it more as…unbelievable, completely screwed up, sickening…and..."

"And?"

He swallowed, "Really, really scary." He was amazed in a way, how fast she could get him talking.

Gibbs just watched silently.

"We'll get into more detail, but right now, I want you to tell me what frightens you the most out of all the things that have happened?"

He blinked for a moment, trying to formulate the answer.

He nervously rubbed at the corner of his mouth, and then put his hand down, nodding a little as he slowly replied.

"I would have to say…it's…it's not feeling like I have control over my mind…I don't…feel like …" he suddenly felt like he couldn't get enough air and took another deep breath. "I don't feel like me…anymore."

At the last words he let her see just a flash of the anguish he felt come across his face.

She sat back in her seat a little, composed and relaxed.

"When you feel out of control, or unlike yourself…can you describe what's happening or what that's like?"

He suddenly felt a chill go through him, and he unconsciously rubbed his hands together in his lap.

"I guess you've heard all kinds of crazy stuff, huh?" he smiled at her raising his brows for a quick moment. Her gaze remained steady as she smiled a little but said nothing.

"I-" he began, trying to let the words come out as he looked down at the desk. "I hear…things, sometimes, see things that aren't there. And I sort of…don't have a handle on what's really happening…I mean, I can't tell…what's real and what isn't. And stress seems to make it worse, I think."

She nodded. "Stress would certainly be a trigger for some of the automatic responses that were drilled into you. But," she leaned forward, looking at him very seriously, "I want you to understand something, and it's really important."

His eyes were riveted on her now, as were Gibbs'.

"You're mind was trained, to have thoughts you did not want, by other people. That makes obvious the fact, that your mind _can_ be trained, and that _you_, yourself, can re-train it to divert away from, and eventually eliminate those unwanted thoughts."

Tony tried to absorb it.

"So…I can fix it?" he asked, but more like a statement.

She nodded, and smiled.

"I can fix it?"he asked it now, more hopefully, one brow raising.

"Yes," she said, "with time and some help. The drugs, the hallucinogens can have a long range ripple effect. But nothing as troublesome as the symptoms and feelings you are having now. They are more a direct result of the trauma, and the reinforcement of things you were subjected to."

"So, it's not the effects of the LSD that makes me hear and see things?"

"Well, certainly that is a contributor, but not the whole enchilada, as they say. No, I think you need time to process what's happened to you, and your mind, and if you're willing, I can help you and try to get you to the end sooner, rather than later."

He nodded eagerly, "That would be pretty awesome. I really need to get back to work-"

"In time, Tony, but please try to have patience. This isn't going to be easy. I'm going to ask you to go through everything that's happened, and try to work through it all, including starting mental exercises to help offset the…mind tampering you experienced. I think you should be prepared to be out at least four to six weeks, and see me for two hours, four times a week."

He tried to school his expression, to not let on how upset he was about the time frame she just gave him.

Gibbs saw the slump in his shoulders.

"Your job will be waiting for you. No one's riding that desk but you, okay?"

She watched the interaction.

Tony snorted. not turning to look at him. "Sure, Boss. How are you going to get things done without someone else there to cover me ? And I doubt Vance is gonna see it the same way you do." He rubbed his eyes, quickly getting a headache. "He's none too fond of me. I'm sure he has a replacement lined up."

Cranston and Gibbs were looking at each other in silent communication.

Gibbs leaned forward a little, his hand going on Tony's shoulder, as the younger man eyed it, "You'd be surprised what Vance has said, and done, since this all happened. I don't think you should worry about that. You're statement, on Kort...Vance said it can wait until you're ready. No one's cryin' over that loss. And we've all got your six. "

"I'm going to write a recommendation, with a diagnosis and a time frame, and submit it on your behalf. And I will probably be the one to then do your psych evaluation at the end. I think if you can just be patient, and are willing to work with me, you can get through this and back to what you love." She looked at Tony and smiled again, "You have quite a family, also, to help support you through this. And before you argue, remember, Agent DiNozzo, I've read all your files. And I know how many times you have put your life on the line for all of them."

Tony was a little speechless, as Gibbs sat back behind him, looking at Cranston with a wry grin.

"Hah," Tony said finally. "You always seem to know how to get me to talk, and then how to get me to shut up just as easy. Pretty good Doc."

Gibbs softly and with amusement, "Someone needs to know how to do it."


	36. Chapter 36

Gibbs insisted that Tony stay, at his house, until he was a little better.

Whenever that was.

The first week was more of a nightmare than a relief.

Gibbs had taken Tony to and from the sessions, since he still had some time off. But other arrangements would be needed once he went back to work. He didn't feel that the younger man could drive safely to the appointments. The therapy would at times, worsen Tony's symptoms, instead of lessen them.

Cranston asked Gibbs to wait outside, and not be in the room during the emotionally and mentally draining hours of work Tony needed to do.

He tried to run errands, or go by the office to check up on the rest of the team. And then tried to read a book, in the waiting room, but found it difficult at times.

Mostly, they would talk, but he could hear when Tony got frustrated, or angry, or upset at having to relive some of his experience at Cranston's request.

The first three sessions, he came out, a little dazed and pale. And wouldn't say anything to Gibbs at all, until they were home, and he'd been able to calm down.

On the fourth session, after Tony went in, Cranston turned to Gibbs, ever so quickly and said in a low voice, "Stick around today, Gibbs, I may need your help."

He nodded. "K'ay, Doc. Your party." And he sat, glasses on and his book cracked open, until he heard the volume going up on their voices. It had been at about an hour in.

Gibbs tilted his head, trying to listen. Cranston's voice was low, and a barely audible murmur, while he could hear Tony's getting higher, almost pleading with her…

He thought about going in, as he lowered the book down, but then thought better of it. She would let him know. He trusted her with Tony, which was just about as high a compliment Gibbs could give a shrink.

He could hear Tony now, a little clearer, as he narrowed his blue eyes in concentration.

"I **can't**!"

"**Why?** Why do you need me to…I…don't…

More murmuring from the Doctor.

Tony seemed to calm for a while, talking in a more natural tone…but before long, he was screaming.

"**NO! Nonono…God**!" It was broken, and agonized.

Gibbs was up and pacing, after throwing his glasses on the end table with his book.

The door opened, and she quickly motioned him in.

Tony was on the floor, curled over himself in a protective ball, hands on the back of his own head, fingers desperately entwined in his own hair.

Gibbs heard the gasping sobs, as he crouched down next to him.

He looked up at Cranston, who looked genuinely pained and motioned for him to talk to the shaking man.

"Tony, hey,"called gently, putting a light hand on his back. The touch sent a shudder through the younger man.

He moaned pitifully, but, at least it was some kind of response.

Cranston knelt down, not touching either one and said, "Tony, can you remember now, the picture we talked about. Can you see it?

He let out the words in a mournful, choking stutter, "I-I...can't do this…it's too hard…"

"Yes, you can."

Gibbs wanted to make Cranston stop whatever it was she was doing. It was causing so much pain…he almost couldn't bear it. But he held back, knowing he could possibly be doing more damage if he interfered.

"Yes you _can_, Tony. Change the picture. Use your imagination to see it. Take what you're seeing now, and make it a box, smaller in your vision…"

He was trying. He was trying _so hard_ to listen to her voice. But he was in the room with Stratton, and the knife was flashing in his mind, red with his blood.

"God…don't…I _can't_…" he sobbed.

"What was the picture we had before? What was the picture we talked about?" her voice was firm, unrelenting.

Gibbs hated her now almost as much as Stratton.

"C-cabin…"he blurted out, "onna…lake…"

She looked immensely relieved. She had pushed him further than before, not because she felt he could replace the picture yet. Just because she wanted to be sure she could reach him somehow, through the trap of the memories, when he got caught in them. If he could keep his connection to her, he would later be able to change the picture.

"Okay, Tony, you can come back here to my office. You're doing so well. Just let what you're seeing fade and listen to my voice."

He had become exhausted, fighting to keep his concentration for so long through the images and whispering voices.

Gibbs put his whole arm around Tony to help him sit up.

"You are completely safe here. You're with me, and Gibbs, and my voice is real. We are real, this room is real."

Tony slid his hands over his face, afraid to open his eyes.

Afraid to find it all a lie.

Gibbs kept one arm around his shoulder, and with his opposite hand was gently trying to push Tony's hands away.

"You trust me, don't you?" she asked calmly.

There was the barest of nods.

"You trust Gibbs don't you?"

Another small nod, but his shaking and shallow gasps continued.

She nodded at Gibbs.

"Come on, DiNozzo," he said gently. "We're here. You're okay."

"Tony, your hallucinations, are they ever nice?" she asked, with quiet intensity, looking at him.

He quieted a little, thinking, and then let his arms drop slowly down, opening his watery eyes.

He blinked a few times, trembling, and then looked at her, almost in shock.

"No…they're…never good…never…"he croaked out, almost whispering.

He turned to Gibbs, with red-rimmed eyes, "they're…always bad, Boss…always…"

It was a realization, that could help him differentiate, reality from hallucination.

Gibbs was now dazzled by her talent.

Tony seemed to breathe more naturally, but he was completely done. His tear streaked face was paper white, and his eyelids were even starting to droop as he sat staring at Gibbs.

"Tony," Gibbs brushed a hand over Tony's face, "come on, let's get up now, ok?"

Tony nodded a little, breath returning to normal, but unsteady as the older man helped him to his feet.

"Just let him sit for a little bit," Cranston pointed to the couch.

Gibbs walked him the several feet, feeling Tony was close to collapse, and eased him down onto the couch. Once his head leaned back, his eyes closed almost immediately.

Gibbs sighed deeply and turned to her.

He was about to speak when she motioned him out to the waiting room.

He smiled a little, shaking his head.

"You know, I thought you were a little nuts, having him do this, with no medication…"

"Well, he still has the sedatives if the anxiety gets bad. And it will, sometimes. He did unbelievably well today…but it's a rough ride back. And you being here was very helpful."

"You and Tony did the work, Doc. But…I'm glad I was here. I wasn't sure…how that was gonna' go…"

"She smiled and shrugged, "Neither was I. Sometimes the sessions will be that bad, with no breakthrough to show for it. Other times, it will be a quantum leap. But, I'm even more confident now, we can help him overcome this. He just has to be brave enough to keep at this. And you and I know what he's really made of."

He looked at her with deep gratitude.

"I appreciate what you're doing. And if you need me to, I will make sure I'm here for the sessions, even with work. I may get stuck here and there, but I'll do my best, if it helps him." He swallowed, and shifted a little on his feet while he looked at her.

"Tony…means a lot to us."

She smiled, knowing the "we" really meant Gibbs himself.

"I understand, Gibbs."


	37. Chapter 37

It was the weekend.

Two blessed days without Rachel Cranston cracking his head open like a walnut.

He woke in the early morning, hearing Gibbs getting ready to go out for a run. He thought about going too...but just wanted to savor the feeling of being free to do nothing but sleep.

Therapy the previous day had drained him beyond measure. McGee and Ziva, and Abby, had all come by to see him after, but he was simply too exhausted to talk much. They stayed a while, talking in lowered voices, as Tony fell asleep on the couch with his head in Abby's lap.

He felt bad, that they wanted him to be back to normal so badly. They couldn't mask some of the hopefulness falling from their faces, when they saw the state he was in again.

He heard Gibbs gently telling them to be patient, that it was going to take a little more time.

He even felt a tear fall on him, as Abby stroked his hair while he drifted off.

They were his family. They needed him. He hated feeling that he was disappointing them.

When Abby finally nudged him, Gibbs was there to help him stumble back into bed in the guest room, as he heard them say their goodbyes.

He wondered if today he would continue to disappoint everyone, by still being crazy.

He rolled over and closed his eyes.

* * *

><p><em>He was running again on the beach, away from the giant bird. He cast a glance behind him...the sound of the surf rolling in was mixed with the subtle sound of the whispering voices. <em>

_The sea itself was a dark crimson._

_A sea of blood. _

_Above him, the giant seabird was closing in. He saw dozens in the sky above it. _

_He ran faster, feeling the shadow of the bird falling over him._

_Just as it was about to slash at his back with it's beak, he slid and shimmied into a small cave opening._

_The bird shrilled angrily from outside._

_He was safe from its clutches._

_He backed away from the entrance, panting, into the cave. _

_It was dark, with mostly rock and sand covering its surface. But there was something else._

_A little further down, something orange caught his eye._

_He walked carefully through the cave, trying to keep his footing over the uneven and shadowed terrain._

_As he approached he saw what it was...an orange door._

_He put his hand on the handle...hesitating._

_Would it be safe to open it?_

_He looked back to the mouth of the cave, where the giant bird was pecking and scrabbling at the rock...trying to get in..._

_Better to take the chance with the door._

_He turned back and opened it, quickly stepping inside, and closing it behind him._

_The sounds of the bird disappeared._

_He sighed in relief. But now he heard something behind him._

_As he turned, he saw a chillingly familiar sight - the storage locker, and it's nightmarish equipment...and Kort._

_The whispers came rushing in louder._

_He put his hands to his head for a moment, covering his ears in the attempt to stop them._

_Suddenly, he was on the floor again, Kort approaching him with the hypodermic while he tried to scramble away._

_His heart was racing._

_His back hit the hard doorframe._

_Kort was smiling sickly at him...but he saw a blur...like a staggered ghost over Kort...Stratton..._

_It was almost like Stratton was getting clearer... as Kort seemed to be fading._

_He was terrified of Stratton bringing the needle down, knowing he would wake up naked and bound to the chair or hanging from a hook, and as he scrabbled and clawed unconsciously for anything to defend himself with._

_His fingers reached something cold and metallic beside him._

_As Stratton leaned down, placing the needle at his neck, he saw just a flash of Kort, grinning malevolently, and took the item in his hand and jammed it into the man"s good eye._

_There was no scream, only a shocked gasp from the man as he fell to the floor, and Tony, in his fear and anger jumped at the chance to pick up the metal rod and jam it in several more time, making sure he was dead._

_He backed away, with blood and gore on his hands, but as he sat back, the body moved._

_Kort sat up, pulling out the rod, with his bloody destroyed eye socket and patch, and laughed._

He sat up, sweating, gasping, and looking around the room, whispers dying out with the dream, echoing in his mind.

He felt sick, the gory eye socket mocking him in his mind, and flipped back the covers to get out of bed.

As he walked into the hallway on shaky legs, Gibbs happened to see him on his way in from the run.

Immediately, Gibbs could see Tony looked off.

"DiNozzo," he caught up to him quickly as he was heading toward the downstairs bathroom.

Tony turned to him, looking green, and without warning proceeded to vomit on Gibbs' best running shoes.

Gibbs put a steadying hand on him, as he leaned down with his hands on his knees, seeing the cuffs of his flannel pajama pants now also soiled with some of it.

""Ahh…sorry, Boss…" Tony said weakly, not believing he had just puked on his superior. Well, it wasn't the first time he'd puked on someone – but usually, there was at least an interesting story to go with it. And it wasn't the Boss.

This was just sad.

"Good morning," Gibbs said sourly, "to you too, DiNozzo."

It took a little time for Gibbs to clean all of the mess up, but once things were under control he knocked on the bathroom door, noticing Tony had been in there a while.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked.

The door swung open.

"Other than completely humiliated at this point, I'm just _peachy_," Tony said in an irritated tone, looking at him blandly. As he left the bathroom, Gibbs noticed he was fully dressed, in jeans and button down shirt.

He walked into the living room, putting shoes on.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, leaning on the doorway of the kitchen.

"Goin' somewhere?"

"Yeah. Why? I didn't think I was under house arrest anymore."

Gibbs got a little angry at the response.

"You're not. But, you also still recovering-"

"So I have to tell you _every time_ I go somewhere?" Tony sat up, looking at him with almost a dare in his eyes.

Gibbs noticed, the still somewhat dark shadows under Tony's eyes, and the pale face they were set in.

He softened a little.

"No. You can do whatever you like. But…I…just wanna make sure you're okay, Tony."

He felt all the air let out of his anger. Gibbs was not giving him the fight he needed to steel his determination. He'd hoped to leave angry, letting that fuel him to the confrontation he was headed to.

Suddenly, he felt like an asshole.

Gibbs had been saving his life, keeping him from falling off the edge of the world. He knew without the man, who was more like a father to him than his own, he would have already perished.

"I... wanna' go back to the storage locker." He looked away, immediately taking in the surprise on Gibbs' face.

Gibbs shifted on his feet, rubbing his chin for a moment, thinking.

"You sure you wanna' do that today, after the week you've had?" Gibbs was concerned that this might be something they needed Cranston around for, but, he also felt really proud of Tony. He knew the younger man was trying to face his demons, trying to put himself together again. Not many people had that kind of courage.

Tony nodded, looking up at him.

"Ok. I'm coming with you. But…I think I need a different pair of shoes…"


	38. Chapter 38

He had somehow expected the macabre scene to still be intact. He was both disappointed and relieved it wasn't.

The storage facility had been cleared out of the items Kort had placed in it. They were now all locked up at NCIS, as crime scene evidence.

But, the bloodstains were still there.

Tony walked in slowly, as Gibbs hit the light.

The stains were now a dark, rusty brown.

He stared at them a while, and Gibbs slowly wandered to the other side of the room, leaning against the wall quietly to give him space.

Tony thought about what he's seen in the room, and slowly looked around.

He looked up, and saw the beam which had held the chains, and the meat hook.

He took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes for a moment.

The hook was meant for Kort to… string him up on. Likely, naked, as Stratton had done…so he would be vulnerable, and humiliated, and trapped like an animal.

He felt an inner struggle…he wanted to let himself remember it again, what Stratton had done…but he was afraid…

He was afraid that he wouldn't come back.

Every time he fell into a hallucination, or a memory, he was afraid he would be trapped in it. That he'd never come back to reality, or trust that he was really home.

He was tired of being afraid.

He had to try.

For his sake, for Gibbs, for the team.

He covered his face with his hands for a moment, letting his mind go to the horrible places Rachel Cranston had been pushing him to go all week.

His heart was starting to race, as he felt the familiar suffocation of terror.

The whispers were there.

He remembered Stratton, touching him, cutting him with the knife while he screamed in agony.

He remembered Latham looking down at him, as he laid on the floor of the state room on The Phantom.

He remembered Brian O'Shea, dead in his arms, while they drifted in the unforgiving Tyrrhenian Sea.

He remembered Kort's cold, menacing leer, as he held up the hypodermic needle.

He must have made some kind of noise because he felt Gibbs standing next to him, a hand on his arm.

Then he remembered something else.

To open his eyes.

He looked at Gibbs, with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"They're never nice," he said hoarsely.

"No, never," Gibbs smiled a little.

Tony knew, for the first time, without a doubt that this was reality.

He laughed a little, as Gibbs pulled him in tightly.

As he wrapped his arms around his friend, closing his eyes as he rested in the embrace, he heard Gibbs say in his ear,

"Welcome back, DiNozzo."


	39. Chapter 39

**Epilogue**

The man slapped the folder down on the circular table.

Other hands swiftly opened it up, pulling out several photos, and documents marked TOP SECRET.

Cigar smoke wafted through the air, twirling lazily under the overhead light.

"This is him?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Where is he now?"

"Back at work, in DC."

There was a span of silence.

"How do I know you're telling the truth? Latham never confirmed the project was a success."

"Because we have an eyewitness who saw the effect take place."

"Who?"

"One of Ibn Alwaan's men."

"He _saw_ this guy shoot the SecNav?"

"No. It was close, but someone stopped him. He actually had the gun up to Jarvis' head to shoot. If he had been operating alone…"

The man sighed thoughtfully for a moment.

"Close, but no cigar, as they say."

"But close enough to look into."

"Maybe."

He looked at the picture of the smiling man, with green eyes.

"Anthony DiNozzo could still be the prototype for a very profitable project. If he was close to the mark, maybe it would only take a little more for him to be the perfect assassin. Think about the implications. If we could do it with him-"

"We could train dozens. And the profit would be…considerable. But, I'd want to make sure he was more…compliant, than it appears he was with Latham."

The other man smiled.

"There are other methods we could consider, to improve upon the training."

The man took another drag of his cigar.

"I'm all ears."

**The (End)**

* * *

><p>PHEW!<p>

Well, that was one heck of a story.

I'm _pooped_, people.

But – you all were so good to me – all the reviews and notes really inspired, thank you so so much. They meant a lot.

Some of you (and you know who you are) gave me tremendous support, every day, and truly fueled how quickly I got my chaps out.

Please feel free to review or message your comments & criticisms – I still have much to learn !

After a short rest, I will be researching for the next story – if you are interested in the genre – an NCIS erotic horror tale.

Boy am I excited.

I want to see if I can turn you on, scare you, and intrigue you, all in one story. BUT – it will be rated MA – so only 18 & up on the next one, "The Mirror of Archimedes."

And before I start the next one - i will be going back to put proper line breaks in all my stories (since I was such a newbie and flew through the work - I didn't realize until a reviewer pointed out to me they were needed (thanks for that, you also know who you are !)

Ciao!

MG


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N :** Hi readers !

Going from someone who didn't write, to putting out stories to you guys last Spetember, I feel like I've learned so much and really appreciate the support i got from you, the readers. I hope to continue to improve and offer interesting an entertaining material!

If you have the desire, and can afford to, Pandora's Box, The Net, Close Calls and Smile of the Moon are all up for awards at the Author's Note Convention for fanfiction. I am actually going to be there, at Roanoke VA, for the event. For $5 donation (for charity) you can vote for any of these stories at authorsnote dot org after June 1st. Look for a line on the right that says DONATE A VOTE, on the convention page.

Five bucks is lunch- so – truly – I already appreciate the reviews greatly and this is only if you want to and can do.

Thank you so much!

MG


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